Wish Me Joy
by ak-stinger
Summary: MPREG, slash. When Aragorn dutifully marries Arwen, Legolas vanishes with a secret. What will happen when he comes back 5 years later? AL, AA, LEomer later. Longer summary inside.
1. Snatched away

This story contains **MPREG**, which is when a male character gets pregnant. You have every right to **HATE **this kind of story – that's why **BACK BUTTONS** were invented. Don't bother trying to give me a **BIOLOGY LESSON** because I've had those and received A's. I know that **IN REAL LIFE** men can't get pregnant but this plot is coming from my **IMAGINATION**, where I spend a majority of my time anyway. Don't start sending me flames about how **GOD** hates immoral people like me and the people in my stories because, unless you _are_ God I think you should refrain from passing that kind of judgment on a complete stranger. I'm giving you **MORE THAN ADEQUATE** warnings about what's in my story and leaving it up to you whether or not you would enjoy reading it. If someone is forcing you to read this against your will, you might want to employ some **SELF-DEFENSE** moves against the asshole – they'd be a lot more effective than flaming me.

_Title_: Wish Me Joy

_Author_: ak-stinger

_Rating_: M (see above paragraph and Warnings)

_Disclaimer_: I don't own these wonderful characters – while I like to believe that they belong to everyone who loves The Lord of the Rings, legally they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate, and to Peter Jackson, et al. You could sue, but considering my student loan debt you wouldn't get much. All you'd wind up doing is making me, my fish, my hamster, and my kitten homeless – you don't want to make my kitten homeless, do you?

_Summary_: When Aragorn reluctantly but dutifully marries Arwen, Legolas vanishes into Fangorn Forest…with a secret pregnancy. He and his child emerge five years later, becoming guests to King Eomer of Rohan. Will he let Aragorn know about their child? Will Aragorn finally follow his heart? And, as his feelings for Eomer complicate matters, will Legolas want him to?

_Pairings_: Aragorn/Legolas; Aragorn/Arwen; Legolas/Eomer (in later chapters)

_Warnings_: **MPREG! **If this is news to you, I suggest you scroll up and read the first paragraph. This also contains **SLASH**. There will also be a little **HET**, but nothing explicit and I make it pretty clear that Aragorn isn't with Arwen because he wants to be. Eomer's canonical wife, Lothiriel, **DOESN'T EXIST** (or else they never met). Because of all of this, this story is obviously an **AU**. Just an extra, perhaps unnecessary warning: this might not have a happy ending, or at least what many people consider to be happy. That being said, let me assure you that I hate killing characters (I'll do it if the story calls for it, but this particular story isn't one that will call for it); maybe 'unhappy' is the wrong word; 'bittersweet' might be more appropriate. I hope that in and of itself doesn't stop you from reading. If any of this is remotely unappealing, feel free to hit the back button.

_Reviews_: I love them, but I won't beg or hold chapters captive just to get them. Praise and constructive criticism are welcome, but flames will be deleted (immediately from my e-mail and from the story's review history if at all possible). Quite honestly, I think people who bother to flame are idiots who have been reduced to insulting strangers to feel important; if you weren't so annoying I'd feel sorry for you.

_A/N_: Flashbacks – and there will be a few of them, especially in the first chapters – will be italicized. I'm sorry if having pages on end makes your eyes cross; it does that to me too, but I really need to make them distinctive.

_A/N, part 2_: This is **NOT** a part of my "What…" series (more on that after this chapter)

With no further ado…the story!

_Flashback_

"_You're late," observed Legolas with maddening casualness to Aragorn after the Man had almost run into him during his determined march to find King Theoden._

_If anyone who might have overheard him and had been ignorant to what had happened during the warg battle, they most likely would have thought that Aragorn had just strolled in after taking a few extra minutes to savor the last little bit of a meal. An eavesdropping refugee at Helm's Deep who wasn't blind, deaf, and completely oblivious to the Man's 'little tumble off the cliff' would have just assumed that elves were different, cold creatures and that Legolas was incapable of feeling much after his friend had effectively returned from the dead. Those who actually bothered to pay attention to the elf who was speaking those words, however, wouldn't be able to miss the extra brightness in his eyes, the tremble in his lips as they curled into a small smile, and the tenseness that possessed Legolas' entire body frame as he resisted the urge to leap forward and throw his arms around his presumed-lost companion._

_Aragorn cocked his head and stared incredulously at him. Insulted or hurt by the elf's callousness, an audience would have believed, but it was not so. The ranger knew Legolas well enough to know that his light attitude was a flimsy façade at best and that more emotion had been packed into those two little words than most members of any race would feel in their lifetimes. No, Aragorn was amazed because of the fact that he'd been thinking the exact same thing – that he was late – ever since the moment that a ghostly kiss had woken him up on the shores of that cold river._

_It had felt like someone was breathing life into him – not just the ability to walk, talk, inhale, and exhale, but actually making him want to live his life again. It had been an almost troubling realization, for he couldn't recall the time when he ceased to live in favor of merely existing. Thinking hard as those lips leaned in to brush up against his once more Aragorn had remembered a beautiful area of an otherwise dark forest…a warm summer just before he found out the truth about his heritage…being determined to hold his own on the archery field against the wood-elves that he'd been sent to visit…falling in love with the sound of a laugh even before turning around and beholding the beauty of the blonde elf who was making it…. When Aragorn forced his eyes open he wasn't a bit surprised to see that the fading figure above him wasn't Arwen with her flowing, feminine brunette mane; but Legolas, with his long blonde locks tied back into warrior's braids._

_At that moment Aragorn had realized that he was indeed very late – late in acknowledging what his heart had known to be true ever since that summer in Mirkwood when his father had sent him to complete his archery training with the reputed best archer in Middle-earth: he was, had been, and would always be in love with Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood. Those half-truths that he'd spend decades telling himself but never really believed – that he only felt so strongly for the elf because he'd been his first love; that it was perfectly normal to love someone so deeply without being in love with him; that it didn't mean that he wasn't in love with Arwen just because she was never in his dreams while Legolas' face was always there whenever Aragorn closed his eyes – no longer had a place in his life._

_What exactly was holding him back? Aragorn's mind flew back into the present has he contemplated that question. His relationship with Arwen was over with; she was probably gone, on one of the ships to Valinor with his blessing, and he didn't have to feel obligated to return her feelings any longer. Now he could freely admit (at least to himself and to Legolas; he was too much of a gentleman to announce to all the lands something so unflattering about the elven princess) that Arwen had never had his heart. That belonged to a certain elven warrior prince and though it was late in officially being gifted Aragorn knew that he'd been given another chance to make that right and he was eager to take it._

_Legolas, apparently unaware of the Man's new revelation, broke their eye contact so that he could look his companion over more carefully. "You look terrible," he noted, sounding surprised._

_A huge grin – one that hadn't shown up for years – broke out across Aragorn's face and he chuckled. His heart leapt, not so much at the fact that the love of his life was currently less than impressed with his physical appearance but at the implications in his words and tone. Legolas was not naïve or stupid – he had to understand that no one would look their best after a vicious battle with an orc and a warg, being dragged over a cliff, and almost drowning – and yet he didn't bother to hide the fact that seeing Aragorn in such a state shocked him. Was that because he'd previously believed that it wasn't possible for the Man to be anything but attractive?_

_That was a flattering explanation but Aragorn knew that it was more likely that Legolas was surprised because he hadn't noticed the ranger's sorry state before that moment. But elves were generally observant, alert, and keen-eyed and Legolas was no exception to that – why then had he not taken in his battered appearance right away? The fact that something so obvious had escaped his attentions for so long could very well mean that the elf had been to absorbed in something else to care to make note of such an inconsequential thing._

'Too preoccupied with seeing me alive again,'_ thought Aragorn hopefully._ 'Too rapt up in how he feels about me. Did you think that you'd lost me forever, melanin? Are you having the same regrets that have been plaguing me since it was your face that I last thought of before losing consciousness?'

_They reached for each other, gripping one another's shoulders in a traditional but friendly elvish greeting. It wasn't enough; Aragorn felt an insatiable itch in his arms and he knew that they ached to hold his true love again. It had been so long – over 67 years, to be more precise, since they decided that it would be too difficult to extend their 'fling' beyond that magical summer in Mirkwood. Between then and the Council Aragorn and Legolas had only seen each other once, when the ranger and Gandalf had brought the creature Gollum to the wood-elves; by then his relationship with Arwen was common knowledge in the elven world and it would have been inappropriate for them to interact so familiarly. As for the duration of the Quest…it still felt inappropriate to Aragorn so soon after ending things with Arwen, but also the Man hadn't trusted himself to be so close to Legolas and retain the strength not to confess everything he felt for him._

'Fool!' _he admonished himself._ 'Why was it necessary to keep my love a secret? Arwen no longer requires my dutiful loyalty. There were finally no obstacles between me and Legolas – save for my fear that he no longer feels the same for me.'

_While Aragorn pondered his own cowardice Legolas pulled back lightly and reached to take his hand. The ranger was immensely touched by the gesture, thinking against all reason that his love had somehow magically discovered how he felt, returned those feelings wholeheartedly, and now wanted to hold his hand for all the Rohirrim refugees to see. He squeezed the slender fingers that pressed against his skin but they only lingered for a moment – though it was for a second too long for it to be an accident – after placing something cold against his palm._

_Was that a flash of hurt or sadness in Legolas' face? Aragorn reluctantly dragged his gaze away from studying the elf's expression to look down at the object now in his hand. His breath caught when he realized that it was the Evenstar necklace. It could be considered both sadly funny and slightly ironic that the oddly ornate pendant elicited no feelings from him at all._

_It had felt like the damnable charm had haunted him from the moment that Arwen had slipped it into his hand in Rivendell; for it was only when he'd received that physical reminder of her determination to bond with him that he knew that he'd never loved the innocent creature who had declared that she chose a mortal life, nor could he ever. The guilt had gnawed at Aragorn and at first he tried to deny his lack of love by accepting it with a kiss. That still remained, to some degree, driving him to continue to possess it ever after he'd sent her away. Why, he'd even worn it for months just because he'd felt so terrible about making her believe that he loved her in return for so many years only to break her heart in the end. Now he realized that not only had he not even thought about it since Boromir's death had expelled the extra guilt that Galadriel's words had given him in Lothlorien, but also that he hadn't noticed that it wasn't around his neck until he'd seen it elsewhere. The Evenstar had become, in Aragorn's eyes, a true representation of the she elf who'd given it to him: something delicate, lovely enough, but left him feeling cold because it no longer had a place in his life._

_Looking back up, Aragorn tried with discreet desperation to ascertain how Legolas was feeling about all of this. The elf prince was still smiling at him but the light in his eyes had dulled considerably. "Hannon lle," Aragorn told him with a nod, deliberately not giving away too many emotions. He first needed to see what Legolas' reaction really was in order to know how he should proceed. That the elf had taken the trouble to find and carry the Evenstar in and of itself wasn't enough – what had been his motivation? Was it strictly out of his sense of duty to the elven world and the Man that he'd chosen to follow? Did he want it because – as Aragorn hoped – it was the only way that he could have something of the Man's to remember him by? Or was it because the prince truly believed that Aragorn treasured that piece of elvish glass?_

_Legolas bowed his head in response to Aragorn's gratitude and therefore missed the ensuing scrutiny. Those who didn't know and understand him could have thought it to be a nod of acknowledgement but Aragorn knew better. The elf was feeling…crushed? Defeated? Heartbroken? And there was no reason for him to react this way unless – _

'He thinks I'm overcome with emotion at being reunited with this trinket,' Aragorn realized, 'and witnessing it breaks his heart.'_ Though it pained the ranger to know that he caused Legolas any kind of pain, he was also filled with hope and delight such that he hadn't experienced in decades. He was sure now and all he had to do was find the words._

"_Legolas," he began._

_The elf's head snapped up and Aragorn could see a bit of fear mingled with the emotions before he took on a more blasé mask. "Forgive me," said Legolas more formal than necessary and a touch too hastily. "Now is not the time for me to indulge in my own relief when I'm obviously keeping you from wherever you were off to in such a hurry! I would hope, Aragorn, that you were looking for a healer; but knowing you and the fact that they're set up in a chamber in the opposite direction I can only assume that you're on your way to see King Theoden."_

_The image of the uruk-hai army flashed in Aragorn's mind but he stubbornly suppressed it. Right then it was more important to him to get through to his love. "Legolas, mel-"_

"_Yes I know, mellon nin," interrupted Legolas. Now, the prince certainly had enough court training to know not to cut someone off like that. A flicker of panic came to his blue eyes and Aragorn realized that he didn't trust himself to retain his composure if Aragorn continued to speak. "You're fine; you don't need to see a healer, especially when your task at hand is so important. May I remind you that the very same attitude had you limping around Fangorn on a broken toe after you kicked that uruk helmet? I also seem to recall a young Man who managed to shoot himself in the foot while trying to show off and then claimed that all he needed was…"_

_Aragorn smiled to himself. "Was a kiss from the fair prince of Mirkwood," he supplied._

_Legolas instinctively let one hand fly to his mouth as if to muffle any response that he was about to give. When Aragorn reached out and closed his own hand over it the elf seemed to remember himself and where he was. "I understand," sighed Legolas in forced exaggeration and he jumped back as if the Man's touch had burned. "I can see that you're determined to follow the same stubborn pattern. I'll lead you to King Theoden now, but only if you swear to me that you will see a healer immediately after. Honestly, you're not twenty" – a wistful expression danced over his face –"or forty, or even sixty or seventy years old anymore. You need to give yourself and your poor body a longer time to recover."_

_Legolas abruptly spun around on his heels and walked quickly down the corridor. "Hurry up, then," he ordered crisply. "This is the way to the king's command room. Let's get this over with."_

_His pace was so rapid that Aragorn had to struggle to keep up; had he been a lesser Man he would not have been able to do so. "Legolas," the Man said again. Legolas just nodded distractedly back at him and increased his speed ever so slightly. _'He's running from something,'_ Aragorn thought. _'We both have been, and it stops now.'

_As they turned a corner, Aragorn managed to grab hold of one of Legolas' arms and pulled him into an isolated, shadowy area. "Legolas, wait."_

"_Aragorn." Legolas looked down at the hand that was touching him and let out a shuddering breath. He then winced at the sound, and closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as if he were in pain._

"_I'm sorry," apologized Aragorn, immediately loosening his grip. He'd forgotten that he was much stronger now than then last time he'd touched Legolas. Fantastic; how was he supposed to make the elf realize that the Man still loved him if he was giving him bruises? "I didn't mean to hurt you."_

_The withering look that he got in response made Aragorn blush and twitch sheepishly. "Because I am too frail to endure a squeeze in the arm from a big, strong Man such as yourself?" asked Legolas with a touch of frost in his tone. "Let me assure you that if your hand had managed to cause me the slightest hint of physical pain I would have done something about it. Don't forget, mellon nin, that I was a trained warrior killing orcs when your great-grandsire's great-grandsire wasn't even a thought in his parents' minds. You may have more bulk on your frame than I do, but never, _ever_ assume that this makes you the stronger of the two of us."_

"_I know that," admitted Aragorn, stepping closer and cradling Legolas' cheek in his palm._

"_Have you lost your mind?" demanded Legolas. Aragorn felt his lips brush against his hands as he spoke. The elf must have felt the same thrill that it gave him because he unconsciously turned his head toward the hand. "Cease this at once."_

"_I did hurt you," observed Aragorn as he withdrew his caressing hand. Legolas clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. "Not physically – not in the way that you just suggested. The injury was to your heart."_

"_You really should find the king –"_

"_I can see it in your eyes," continued Aragorn, ignoring his effort to abandon the subject. "You thought that I was dead" – a tremor ran through Legolas' face –"and almost despaired because of it. I'm so sorry, Legolas," he added, grasping one of the elf's hands with both of his and drawing it to his lips. "You are the last person that I'd ever want to inflict any sort of pain on and because of your love for me you are the one that I'm able to hurt the most."_

_Legolas chuckled nervously – almost hysterically – as – Aragorn planted a series of soft kisses against his palm. "You've obviously sustained a serious head injury," he said, miraculously maintain a rather steady tone though his voice shook. "I do…love you, as do most people who follow you, but" – he swallowed hard –"I can't imagine why you would think that it compares to those in Rivendell who would have been most grieved to hear that something had happened to you. Ai, Elbereth," he went on, his mouth automatically preparing to welcome a kiss as Aragorn once again got closer, "I wasn't looking forward to delivering that message! Your poor father…and brothers…and – and Arwen…"_

"_Not to Arwen," corrected Aragorn softly, a direct contrast to the intensity of his gaze. "She isn't in Rivendell, nor in any other part of Middle-earth; if she hasn't taken the ship to the Undying Lands by now she would have most certainly done so before any message of my untimely demise could have reached her."_

"_What?"_

_Aragorn was now standing so close that their bodies were lightly pressed against each other. "She's gone," he reiterated. "I sent her away with my blessing to allow our relationship to fade into a pleasant but inconsequential memory."_

_Legolas was so stunned that he actually blinked. "How – why did you do that?" he whispered. "You had to wait for so long – why give her up when you're finally so close to the chance at living happily ever after?"_

"_My happily ever after doesn't involve her," replied Aragorn. He bent down and kissed the very tip of the elf's nose. "It never did."_

"_Now I know you're not thinking clearly," said Legolas, standing absolutely still. "Why else would you be telling me all of this nonsense now?"_

"_Because a force of uruk-hai ten thousand strong are marching this way as we speak –"_

"_Are you insane?" demanded Legolas incredulously. He gently shoved Aragorn away, but the Man simply grabbed the prince's hands and propelled himself back into his previous position. "Why are we wasting time doing this right now? The king must be warned! There is much to do if we are to prepare for a siege."_

"_King Theoden and the other refugees are well aware that they are in grave danger," said Aragorn firmly. "They may not know how imminent it is, but there's really little more that they can do now that they haven't already been doing. Normally I would agree wholeheartedly with you, Legolas, but at this particular moment a few minutes can be spared and that's good. I can't face an army of ten thousand or more uruks without telling you how I feel about you."_

_A mixture of hope, confusion, shock, and apprehension were in the usually unflappable elf's expression. "I know –"_

"_No you don't, or else you haven't dared to believe," Aragorn cut him off emphatically. "Legolas, before we set out from Rivendell Ada spoke with me about Arwen. He said that she would stay in Middle-earth for me but that she belonged with her people and he couldn't leave her here to die. Do you know how I felt at that moment, Legolas? _Relieved_; relieved because someone had finally come out and said it. Ada made me confront what had been clear from the first night I saw her: Arwen does belong with the elves. That meant that not only did I _not_ have to marry her but also that I shouldn't."_

"_But you're in-in love – with her," Legolas sounded as if he were choking on the words._

"_I was never in love with Arwen," countered Aragorn. "She is kind, faithful, and beautiful, but that isn't enough to make someone fall in love with someone else. Believe me, I tried very hard to, especially after she first started talking about how she would bind herself to me. If we had truly been in love, then Ada would have known that separating us permanently would have caused her to fade with grief. I think – I think he was just as concerned about me entering a loveless marriage as he was about leaving her behind; he knew what I was afraid to acknowledge."_

"_Which was?" inquired Legolas faintly._

"_That she had never and could never have my heart," replied Aragorn. "I gave that away when I was twenty-years-old to a beautiful male elf with a merrily amused laugh, a wickedly mischievous smile, a sharp tongue, and the most perfect lips that Eru has ever created. I wouldn't give it to another even if I could because it should remain with the one that I'm in love with."_

_Legolas stared at him. "And how many people like that did you meet that year?"_

"_Only you!" answered Aragorn a bit louder than he should have, excitement and exasperation causing him to lose control of his volume for a second. "There is only one maddening elf that fits that description and it's you. I'm in love with you, melanin; as I always have been since the summer we spent together all those years ago. An eternity apart and a world full of Arwens couldn't change that."_

"_I thought –" Legolas drew in some air and started over. "Ending our relationship was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I've told myself repeatedly that we agreed to do it and that you didn't regret your part of the decision; that it was for the best because there was no guarantee that we'd see each other and that you deserved to find love with someone who could be a more permanent fixture in your life. It was never because I didn't love you or because I stopped loving you – neither is true, even today. My heart is yours, Aragorn son of Arathorn and Elrond; I love you."_

_Their lips came together as if of their own volition, filling in the space and time between them and melting away decades of the pain of separation in one searing kiss. For that one perfect moment in time it didn't matter that they might not survive the night or the war that would follow. They were finally – really – together again and it felt like being made whole after spending years in pieces._

"_I thought that I'd lost you when you went over that cliff," breathed Legolas when they broke apart for want of air. "I was so devastated to have to face the fact that you'd never know how much I love you."_

_Aragorn wrapped his arms around the elf, holding him tightly. "But now I _do_ know," he whispered into a pointed ear. "I know, you know, and we will never be parted again…"_

_End flashback_

A sharp knock echoed through the dressing chamber, startling Aragorn out of his memories. "Who is it?" he called while silently cursing the interruption. Despite all of the peril and anguish that night had held for them, Aragorn cherished that stolen moment with Legolas much more than any that he was likely to create in the future. Why couldn't they leave him alone to remember happy times? He'd certainly need all the good memories that he could get if he was going to actually go through with what he was about to do.

"It's Faramir, my king!"

"Enter then, and don't call me 'your king'," chuckled Aragorn dryly as Gondor's steward came in. "Even if I haven't repeatedly instructed you to call me 'Aragorn' it's still inappropriate; I haven't been crowned yet."

"I apologize," replied Faramir sincerely. "But all of that will be remedied in a few minutes. Your coronation – and wedding – is at hand. Are you ready, my lor – Aragorn?"

'_No.'_ "I am."

Faramir noticed a strange look in Aragorn's eyes. Stress, he figured; he'd felt similarly when he'd proposed to Eowyn – even if it was a happy one, such a life-altering event was bound to cause a little nervousness. He was just relieved that Aragorn was more willing to show his emotions and not keep them bottled up until he exploded, unlike another recent ruler of the realm. The thought of Denethor was still a grievous one for the steward and he quickly squashed it. "All is ready for the ceremonies, and –" Faramir lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper – "I have it on good authority that the Lady Arwen looks radiant. Never has a king of Gondor taken anyone as stunning as she to be his wife and queen."

To be continued…

_A/N, part 3_: For those of you who care, I'm going to write a continuation to What Love Brought Into Being. It might be a week or two until I'm ready to post, but just know that there's something in the works.


	2. Comes tumbling down

_A/N: If Legolas comes off as weak, it's only because the proverbial rug's been pulled out from under his feet. Trust me, I've got a plan._

Minas Tirith was alive as almost all of the people within its white stone walls celebrated the victories of the recent past, excitedly prepared for the present, and held a renewed hope for the future. Why should they not? After enduring the threat of the shadow of Sauron for many generations the city had finally been freed. The race of Men had triumphed before the Black Gates; Minas Tirith might have been a little worse for wear after the Battle of Pelennor Fields but it had fared better than Mordor, which had been completely leveled. Plans were already in motion for the damaged parts of the city to be repaired; the gates would be made stronger and the homes restored so that families could live in them again. At that moment in time no one doubted that the Minas Tirith of the near future would rival the glory days of the past.

Much of that belief stemmed from the hope restored by the Man whom the citizens of Gondor and honored guests were presently gathering in the courtyard to honor. Most had long despaired that the king of Men would return but thanks to Aragorn, son of Arathorn (formerly known as Estel Elrondion and about to go down in history as King Elessar) the line of Isildur was going to reclaim the throne. The race of Men would no longer be divided and flounder without a leader. As the hour of the coronation drew closer, there seemed to be no reason to do anything but rejoice at the occasion.

One of the few people who actually had cause to be miserable stood in a small dressing room in the private royal quarters of the citadel; as was fitting, considering that most people knew that he was a close friend of their future king. It was a shame that no one realized just how close Aragorn and Prince Legolas truly were – perhaps they might have been able to offer him some comfort. As it was he was all alone, trying to will his hands to stop shaking.

'_This is ridiculous,'_ Legolas told himself sternly as he tightened his grip on the circlet of mithril in his hands. He'd never been found of that crown but right now he was happy that his father thought to include it in the package of formal clothing that he'd just received that morning; if nothing else, it was helping him control the tremors. _'You knew this day was coming! What would you accomplish if you let yourself fall apart now? Aragorn would still marry Arwen; the only changes that would occur would be that Aragorn's reputation would be marred, Arwen would feel hurt and betrayed by you both, and you'd be remembered as a blithering fool. Or a promiscuous whore. Or possibly both.'_

This was not the day for him to play the devastated lover. Legolas was determined to bury all of those horrible emotions and get through the ceremony. He would plaster a passable smile on his face and march in the procession with the rest of the elves and try not to think about the fact that he was in effect escorting the Evenstar to his true love and her intended. Afterwards he would track down Eomer, the new king of Rohan, to see when the funeral procession for King Theoden would be ready. Hopefully, Eomer would want some time to prepare before bringing his uncle's body back to his homeland; it would give Legolas the opportunity to get out of the city and gain some control over the emotions that the war had unhinged before he was forced to spend an extended amount of time with the newlywed couple.

It was strangely ironic in a way that the elven prince was too unhappy to appreciate even in a maudlin sense: for most people, this day would mark the beginning of joyful times after years of living in hopelessness and fear and weeks of bloodshed and destruction. For Legolas, it was almost the exact opposite; while he too felt the effects of the Shadow in his home of Mirkwood, the months of war found him as happy as he'd been in years and the coronation would mark the beginning of the darkest period of his life, one that he couldn't see the end of.

'_Don't give in to this,'_ Legolas silently scolded himself as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. _'You are Prince Legolas Thranduilion of the realm of Mirkwood. You survived watching the woods around your home fall under the influence of the Shadow and now you're going to let this grief get the better of you? You lost Aragorn before and survived; this is no different!'_

But in his heart he knew that it was. When he and Aragorn said goodbye all those summers ago, Legolas felt that he was doing the right thing to ensure his young love's happiness. The defense of Mirkwood also gave him a more than sufficient distraction from that pain and deep down he'd never let go of the hope that they'd see each other again. Now Mirkwood wouldn't need his unfailing vigilance, he knew that Aragorn was not happy, and there would be no hope that they would ever reunite. The two of them had come so close to getting everything that they wanted and now that happiness was forever beyond their reach.

Staring down at the circlet, Legolas was overwhelmed with the memory of the last time he'd been truly happy: at the encampment at Dunharrow the night that he, Aragorn, and Gimli set out on the on the Paths of the Dead.

_Flashback_

"_Aragorn," Legolas half-whispered, half-breathed as the Man pressed gentle kisses on the tips of his pointed ears. He glanced at the flap that served as the door of the Man's tent as Aragorn guided them both toward the cot. "I can't stay for much longer. Let's not start something that we won't have the time to finish."_

"_I don't understand why you're in such a hurry to leave," countered Aragorn seductively, using more breath than necessary to tickle the elf's ear._

"_We have to set out in the morning," argued Legolas, pulling Aragorn closer. "What good we be to the Rohirrim – or the people of Gondor, for that matter – if we're so worn out that we're falling asleep on top of our horses? We both need to get a good night's rest."_

"_I'm not tired," replied Aragorn with a fake pout in his voice. He slipped his hands under the elf's tunic, sliding them up to his chest. With one hand he caressed the smooth flesh in a deceptively casual manner; with the other he teased a nipple into a hard nub. "But I know what we could do to wear me out. Relent, meleth, and I will give you sufficiently adequate reasons to stay."_

_Legolas almost succeeded in biting back a moan. "Not if this is all that you plan on doing," he joked, though if his tone was any indication the ranger's ministrations were more than enough. "Maybe before; but now I know all that you are capable of doing. I don't think I could be persuaded with just plain touches, no matter how skillful and well-placed they may be."_

"_One night after the Battle of Helm's Deep," Aragorn pretended to complain as he removed the unresisting Legolas' tunic and bent down to kiss one of his nipples. "How was I supposed to know that nothing less would do after that?"_

"_It was incredible." Legolas closed his eyes to properly savor the memory. After the battle while everyone reveled in the joy of being alive, he and Aragorn had slipped away. They'd only meant to kiss and touch in that small room but after the tension between the two of them before, the overcoming the overwhelming odds that they'd perish, suffering the loss of dear friends and others who should have lived longer, and the victory when all seemed lost, things escalated from there. They'd held their own private victory celebration by confirming their reconciliation and joining their bodies, making love for the first time._

_A part of Legolas felt guilty – his father had told him almost all of his life how important it was for him as a prince to wait until he was properly bound to someone before he gave himself to completely to him. There was no reason why he and Aragorn couldn't have waited; after all, Arwen was gone and they were in love with no more obstacles in their way. At the same time, there'd been so many moments when he'd feared that either or both of them wouldn't live to see a time when they could bond and it seemed silly to save themselves for something that very well might not happen._

_Aragorn reached up and held his lover's face, stroking Legolas' lips with one thumb. "_You_ are what's incredible," he whispered softly. A sad haze clouded his eyes. "I don't deserve you or your love after giving up so easily last time; yet you offer all of it so freely. Do you not wish at times that you kept quiet at the Council? You could be in Mirkwood right now and not here, ready to ride into a hopeless battle with a mortal fool like me."_

"_There's no place on this Middle-earth I'd rather be," declared Legolas with a frown. He worried, as he often did during these days of uncertainty, that the pressure and stress of his duty was weighing too heavily on the Man; the mood shift from playful to downright melancholy was never a good sign. "I love you, Aragorn; I'm _in _love with you. Why would I rather be in Mirkwood? I'm happy to follow you on this path, wherever it may lead."_

"_Wherever it may lead," repeated Aragorn faintly. "Even it I end up being the death of you?"_

"_Don't worry about me," Legolas reassured him with a brief but urgent kiss. "Not when you have so many more pressing things on your mind. Maybe we shouldn't do this tonight, my love; a good night's sleep might do you more good."_

_Aragorn simply shook his head as if to rattle out whatever had brought on his strange mood. "No, Legolas; I'm all right," he said in a shaky but comforting voice. "I don't know where that odd melancholy came from, but it's gone now." He gave him a naughty smile as he very deliberately let his hands slide down to the top of the elf's leggings. "These days I have a difficult time letting go of the sadness of the past, but I can think of a way that you can help me…"_

_Their lips and tongues met once more, only separating briefly to remove the rest of each other's clothing before falling back onto Aragorn's cot. As the Man carefully pinned him beneath his body and spread his legs, Legolas banished all thoughts about the restraint that was expected of a prince in that situation. When the sun rose the next morning they would be riding out to the great battle of the Third Age. Neither Aragorn nor Legolas know when – or if, for there was no guarantee that either would survive to see the aftermath – they could join in an official bond. The bond created by their love was more than enough that night, for they didn't want to waste any precious time on regrets._

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

_It was Aragorn's thrashing as he was trapped in the throes of a nightmare that woke Legolas up in the middle of the night. He wasn't given the opportunity to return the same courtesy to his love, however; before he could move a young Rohirrim stuck his head inside the tent and said, "My lord?"_

_Aragorn instinctively grabbed the curved knife he kept under his pillow and flew up with it at the ready. Legolas discreetly tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, not wanting anything, especially not idle gossip, to disrupt the ranger's command in any way. "The king wishes to see you in his tent," the young soldier informed Aragorn, undaunted by the less-than-welcoming response he'd received. Having been raised among Rohan's finest, he knew that no warrior worth anything appreciated being surprised like that. He bowed and calmly slipped out of the tent once more._

"_What do you think he needs to speak with you about?" wondered Legolas, propping himself up onto his elbows. King Theoden was a seasoned commander; he understood how important it was for his army to be well-rested before they set out for battle. Disturbing any one of them, especially a captain like Aragorn, was unheard of. The only reasons that Legolas could think of that would lead him to do just that ranged from disheartening to utterly devastating._

_The Man tiredly rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I don't know," he mumbled hazily, trying to make his mind wake up. "Maybe…we were surveying the number of troops he seemed ready to wait until more arrived before heading out to Minas Tirith. I thought I'd dissuaded him of that, but perhaps he'd changed his mind again. I'll just have to go there and do it all over again."_

"_Is there anything that I can do to help you?" asked Legolas as Aragorn climbed groggily to his feet and fumbled for his boots._

"_Yes – I need you to get some rest while you can," replied Aragorn with a small smile. He leaned down and kissed Legolas on the mouth, lightly and chastely as he had no time to do it in the way that he wanted to. "There's no reason for both of us to lose sleep. Don't worry, my love, about this or anything else; King Theoden is a reasonable Man. I made him understand what needs to be done before; he just needs a little affirmation now."_

_Legolas tried to do what Aragorn requested of him after he left but found that precious sleep elusive. What was nagging at the edge between his conscious and unconscious mind – a feeling that all was not as it should be? A premonition of terrible things to come? He was usually a stoic, unflappable warrior but at that moment he felt himself drowning in a sea of apprehension._

'I need to be outside,'_ decided Legolas anxiously. Peace could not be restored to him in a place where he couldn't see the light of the moon and the stars. While the tent wasn't nearly as confining as the caverns that his father Thranduil had made into his palace he suddenly felt more suffocated in the former place than he'd ever felt in the latter. _'Once I feel the fresh air on my face things won't appear to be nearly so agonizing.'

_It took all of the elf prince's restraint and decorum not to run out of the tent and keel over with relief when the cool night air hit his face. Instead, in an effort to savor the feel of starlight on his face, absorb the comfort of nature, and maintain his dignity, he simply closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. The position was almost meditative, allowing him to center his thoughts and control his concern. However, it made it impossible for him to see what was going on around him – such as the way that a clearly spooked Theoden rushed out of his tent without Aragorn._

_The elf didn't move from his position for several minutes and would have been content to spend the night like that had he not heard the familiar voice of his lover call his name. "Legolas," said Aragorn in a tone that frightened him more than even the balrog of Moria had. The Man's voice was soft but sounded so upset – almost destroyed, even._

"_Aragorn, what's wrong?" inquired Legolas. "Please tell me; let me help you."_

"_There is –" Aragorn began, but he was choked by a sob. "You should – get some rest – I – I – how could this – "_

"_Breathe, mela!" instructed Legolas urgently. He rushed over to embrace the Man but Aragorn's arms remained limply at his side. Backing off to give him some space, the prince stroked his cheek; his mouth fell open when Aragorn actually flinched away from his touch. "You're really starting to scare me now! What happened in there? What did King Theoden do to put you in such a state?"_

"_He left – left almost immediately," responded Aragorn haltingly. "He didn't want to see me – Ada did."_

"_Lord Elrond?"_

_Aragorn nodded. "Ada was waiting for me. He's – he's still in there."_

"_Why did he come all of this way?" asked Legolas, bewildered. It seemed like a strange move for the elven lord; even if something had happened to one of the twins, there was nothing that Aragorn could do about it at this point and Elrond would know better than to burden him with any tragedies from Rivendell now._

"_He needed to give me the sword of the kings," replied Aragorn._

_That was a believable, albeit weak, explanation for Elrond's journey – why didn't he just send a messenger to bear Aragorn the reforged sword? – but not for the Man's jagged breathing and ashen face. Legolas widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows, silently begging for more information. Soon, however, he would wish that he'd stayed in blissful ignorance for as long as he could._

"_He had to come here to tell me that Arwen is dying," said Aragorn, sounding defeated. He was, in a way; for what his foster father had just told him had essentially stripped him of his happiness. There would be no future for him and Legolas now._

"_I thought she'd taken the ship to Valinor!" exclaimed Legolas, trying to wrap his head around this new development._

"_She was supposed to," replied Aragorn. "I told her that our relationship was nothing more substantial than a dream; I gave her my blessing to live out her years in the Undying Lands. Why didn't she listen? Now she has – she has – forfeited her immortality and her light is waning. She stayed because she loves me and believed that I felt the same way about her, Legolas. I cannot let her die; I owe it to her and to Ada to do everything in my power to save her."_

"_Yes, of course you do," agreed Legolas with a mixture of shock and horror. He'd known Arwen for centuries; though she'd become a rival for Aragorn's affections he'd never viewed her with any resentment or hatred. After all, very few people knew about his and the Man's brief romance and he was sure that Aragorn had never named him as his lost first love. The idea of the beautiful elf maid hovering near death gave Legolas no joy; the whole situation felt wretchedly unfathomable. "And I'll be right there at your side, helping you do it."_

_Aragorn looked pained. "You cannot do that," he whispered, not quite able to meet the startled look that came from the one he loved. "I have to take the Paths of the Dead if there's to be hope for any of us and I have to go alone. It's – it's – it has to be this way, Legolas; if we are victorious, she won't have anywhere else to go – because she rejected Valinor to be with me…"_

_That was the exact second when Legolas' heart broke with understanding: the end of this war would bring him no happiness. If they lost then the Shadow would devour all of the lands and if they won Aragorn would marry Arwen. "Oh," the elf said._

"_I'm so sorry, Legolas; if there was any other way –"_

"_I know," Legolas cut him off. It took all of his will to keep his voice from cracking but he succeeded. "Do not concern yourself with me, Aragorn; especially not right now."_

"_We were so happy," moaned Aragorn._

"_That's not important right now," said Legolas firmly. "What could have been and what we've lost will mean nothing if Sauron triumphs. Focus on what you have to do right now; if it's imperative to take the Paths of the Dead then that's what you need to get ready to do, not lamenting – just do what you have to do, Aragorn."_

"_Thank you," said Aragorn, sounding relieved and somewhat at peace now that Legolas had accepted the situation – two emotions that the elf wouldn't be able to enjoy again for a long time. He leaned in instinctively to kiss the prince's lips._

_All of the fresh air in the world wouldn't have kept Legolas' soul from suffocating as he gently leaned away. "You have a fiancée and her life is in your hands right now," he reminded the Man. So that kiss in the tent before Aragorn departed was to be the last one – how he wished he'd known! He wouldn't have let him go had he known that it would never happen again._

_Instead he chose to grip Aragorn's shoulder in a friendly but platonic gesture – everything that their relationship would have to be from that moment forth. "Go."_

_Aragorn nodded. After indulging in one last lingering glance he turned and strode quickly away to ready Brego. Legolas managed to smile bravely and wait until he was sure that the Man couldn't see him anymore before his face crumpled and his shoulders shook with unvoiced sobs. _'I can't do this here,'_ he thought despairingly. _'Not in the open where everyone can see.'

_Turning blindly, he found himself facing King Theoden's tent just as Elrond emerged. Their eyes locked and Legolas felt an extra surge of misery to go along with his sudden flash of guilt. Elrond _knew_ – with his gift of foresight he had to know the true nature of his relationship with Aragorn. What must the distinguished elven lord think of him now? Was he disappointed that they'd decided to make love before bonding? Outraged that how easily Aragorn found it to forsake his beloved daughter for another? Or was he just disgusted that the elfling who used to cause so much mayhem with the twins during his frequent visits to Rivendell had grown up into the person who might threaten Arwen's future happiness?_

_Legolas was already experiencing a million negative and unpleasant emotions – he didn't need to add the shame that he felt as his sex life was laid bare before Elrond into the mix. Without saying goodbye or even acknowledging the lord with a nod he fled back into Aragorn's tent. There was no comfort for him in there, though; it felt cold and empty. _'We made love in here,' _he thought dully, _'not two hours ago.'

_The realization of how short a time had passed between almost complete bliss and utter devastation broke down the last of Legolas' strength. He dissolved in tears, collapsing to the floor since the idea of being on that cot again was unbearable. Yet in his despair he was able to find a new resolve. _'Two minutes,' _he decided through his pain. _'I will allow myself two minutes to indulge in this self-pity, but that's it. Too many people are depending on me to be strong. I can do this.'

_True to his word, Legolas forced himself to stop crying when his two minutes had passed. Taking a deep breath he composed himself as best he could – which was very well, considering the circumstances – and marched determinedly out into the night. He needed to wake Gimli if they were going to be ready in time to intercept Aragorn before he started down the Paths. Legolas would be damned if he was going to let the person he loved take such a ghastly road on his own, even if said person could no longer return his love._

_End flashback_

Legolas tightened his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. Two minutes – he'd allotted himself two minutes to be selfish and had used them up right away. That was unfortunate in a way, for he was having a hard time keeping his composure, but it was really for the best. It wouldn't do for him to go to the coronation with red rimmed eyes and choking on tears. He needed to be a prince now, and that meant that he couldn't allow himself to fall apart.

With steely determination the elf prince placed the circlet on his head and adjusted it carefully before heading to the door. The ceremonies were about to begin; he had to be there and he certainly wasn't going to cause a scene by coming in late. He would be strong; that would be his wedding present – to Aragorn, at any rate. Legolas didn't need to give Arwen anything – she'd already gotten what he held most precious.

To be continued…


	3. Tears form behind my eyes

_A/N: The title for this chapter is taken from the first verse of Michelle Branch's song Goodbye to You. Here is the relevant verse, along with the chorus:_

_Of all the things I've believed in  
I just want to get it over with  
Tears form behind my eyes  
But I do not cry  
Counting the days that pass me by_

_Goodbye to you  
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew  
You were the one I loved  
The one thing that I tried to hold on to_

Legolas lingered for a moment, minding to keep close to the wall that was shielding him from the sight of the other members of the elvish train gathering to enter the coronation ceremony. Spying the twins standing close by, he took a deep bracing breath. _'This is it,'_ he thought resolutely. He could do this; he could put on a joyful expression and pretend that the shattered pieces that used to be his heart weren't breaking all over again.

As quietly as he could Legolas crept up behind Elladan and Elrohir, who were so engaged in their whispered conversation that they didn't hear him. "What's this? Are you two plotting and scheming?" the blonde elf questioned loudly, shaking his head. "Well, I supposed it's good you both that you know the future king of Gondor personally."

The twins simultaneously jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. "Elbereth, Legolas!" gasped Elladan. He spun around and Legolas could see him smiling through the scare he'd just received. "Why did you have to do that?"

"Perhaps the better question is," smirked Legolas as he discreetly swallowed down a lump that was forming in his throat. He doubted that the twins even believed that he _could_ cry; he knew he wouldn't be able to endure the questions that would follow if they actually saw the tears falling. "Is why you two weren't able to hear me? Are your ears failing you in your old age?"

"We'll have you know," said Elrohir with joking indignance, "that we can hear a bird walking on the road on the first level of the city when we're on the seventh. You seem to be one of the only people who can sneak up on us. Why is that?"

"Because you two are sadly out of practice in dealing with anyone who has the same capabilities as you," teased Legolas, mindful of keeping his tone casual without sounding like he was _trying_ to sound casual. "I think you've spent too many years riding in the company of the rangers of the North."

"They're fine Men," countered Elladan jovially. "Besides, if we hadn't done that we would never have seen our poor, vulnerable baby brother at all in these last few years."

Legolas prayed that they didn't see if any devastated gleam came to his eyes. "Still, that doesn't change the fact that the even the best Men are still Men when it comes to the noise they make," he said, thankful that his voice didn't shake enough for Elladan and Elrohir to notice. "And while you were with them I was learning from the finest elvish warriors in Mirkwood. Not to mention that I've just spend several months honing my skills on the great Quest of our time. It goes without saying that it would be very peculiar indeed if it wasn't easy for me to get the better of you each and every time I try."

"Did you just hear that, Elladan?" asked Elrohir in mock outrage, putting his hands on his hips. "Our young friend here goes on a little adventure with our little brother and a bunch of short people and comes back forgetting those who helped him on his way. However, I seem to recall a certain pathetic, overly sheltered princeling from the heart of the woods coming to Rivendell for the first time for the specific purpose of _us_ teaching _him_ everything we know."

"That was certainly the longest hour of my life," sighed Legolas. _'Keep it up!' _he encouraged himself. _'You're doing so well!'_

Elladan shook his head dramatically. "It's heartbreaking" – Legolas bit the inside of his cheek to stop a sob from escaping –"how elflings forget the work of their elders," tsked Elladan.

"Tragic," murmured Elrohir in agreement, looking not at his brother but giving their friend a strange look. Legolas' heart sunk and he braced himself for the inevitable unbearable questions.

Luckily for him, Elladan was too involved in their verbal sparring to realize that anything was off about Legolas. "And what's all this about it being fortunate that Elrohir and I have a personal relationship with the great Elessar Telcontar?"

Legolas forced out a short bark of a laugh. "Oh, I was only thinking about how much trouble that the king has just gone through to expel as many troublemakers – such as yourselves – from the city," he told them with false seriousness. "Were you two not his brothers you'd probably have been dragged off to the dungeons by now."

"Just remember that it wasn't so too long ago that you were as much of a troublemaker as we are," Elrohir reminded him, his tone teasing but his expression a little concerned as his mouth turned into a warm, nostalgic smile. "This has been a terrible ordeal for you, hasn't it? You've grown up so quickly."

"As have we all," added Elladan, sounding old for the first time in his long life. Putting one arm around Legolas and the other around his twin, he pulled them into a three-person embrace. "Such a curse and a blessing it's been that all of this had to happen during our lifetimes! I'm just so happy that we can all stand here together once more and in one piece."

No in one piece – not entirely, though apparently one could continue to live without their heart and soul intact. As painful as the moment was, though, he was grateful for it; it gave him an excuse to have so much emotion in his eyes. It felt almost liberating not to have to hide it. "The terrors of Mirkwood and Rivendell, reunited once again," he mused, wistfully remembering those more innocent days when the orcs were make-believe, the Ring was a part of ancient history and stories they told to scare each other, and Aragorn wasn't even a thought let alone a driving force in his life.

No – it was too much, thinking about himself as an elfling unaware of how much heartache his future would hold. He looked around in search of a suitable distraction. "Where is everyone?" he finally inquired.

"Still inside," Elladan informed him. "Arwen has a crown that's gorgeous, of course, but it's also pretty complicated to put on and walk around in without ruining its presentation. She's having Ada help her get it looking absolutely perfect. They should be out here in a minute or two – I hope so, at least, since it would be in poor taste for the bride to be late for her own wedding."

The last thing that Legolas wanted to see was Arwen in a crown that was suitable for an elvish queen…Gondor's elvish queen…Aragorn's queen…. "Not them," he said a touch too quickly. "As much as I – look forward to seeing your family again I already figured that they'd need some extra time. I meant the representatives from Mirkwood. Don't tell me that Ada didn't send a few of our people to the coronation! He's always talking about how important it is to maintain good relations with other kingdoms."

The twins exchanged an uneasy, sympathetic glace. "I'm afraid that it's fallen on to you to serve as Mirkwood's sole representation today," said Elrohir softly. "King Thranduil couldn't spare anyone else at this time."

"Why not?" Legolas' frustration and concern grew when his question was met only with more anxious looks from them. "Something terrible has happened, hasn't it? What aren't you telling me?"

"Legolas, please understand that you father didn't want to worry you; he said as much in the note that came with your clothing for the ceremonies," said Elrohir, his eyes flickering with compassion. "He asked us not to tell you until after all of this that, that Mirkwood was one of the northern settlements that was attacked during the War. Your people won in the end, but not without sustaining many losses. A number of elves died and the orcs set fire to many of the trees."

"Ai, Elbereth," moaned Legolas, his stomach churching. It wasn't a shock to find out about the attack – he figured that the War had been taken to that populated northern area – but hearing about the extent of the damage almost brought him to his knees. After all of the time and resources his father spent to keep their dwellings safe, having orcs damage it with their foulness, death, and fire felt like a personal insult.

Guilt washed over him as he imagined his favorite trees going up in flames while his people fell lifeless to the ground. Where'd he been while all of this had been going on? Joining with the only person he'd ever fallen in love with, having a romantic adventure before losing him again. "I left them all alone. I should have been there!"

"Because only you could hold the orcs at bay all by yourself?" questioned Elladan with kind censure, recognizing the guilty abyss that Legolas was propelling himself into.

The elf prince pulled away from them to bury his face in his hands. "I should have been standing at my father's side!" he retorted miserably. "Defending my people and my realm. Actually _being_ the prince of Mirkwood."

"Don't regret the decisions you've made now," advised Elrohir as he wrapped him in comforting arms once more. Elladan managed – barely – to maneuver himself in with them as well. "Though it grieved him to think about anything happening to you, King Thranduil was so proud that you were a part of the Fellowship. He said that you were completing the task that he and your grandsire had started in the Second Age. He isn't angry that you weren't in Mirkwood these last several months; you were meant to have a part in all of this and your father understood that."

"He did indeed," Elrond's rich voice came from one side of them.

"And I'm glad for it," chimed in a more feminine voice, "for now I get to have _all_ of the people whom I consider to be my brother at my wedding."

It took all of Legolas' inner strength to look over at the she-elf who was about to obliviously marrying the Man that he loved and the elven lord who was the only person who knew just how far his relationship with Aragorn had gone. "Mae govannen, Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen," he greeted them, punctuating his words with a formal bow while raising his hand to his chest and waving it out again.

"What's this all about?" scoffed Arwen kindly, sounding more a younger sister than a noble elf – or a romantic rival. She sprang forward and threw her arms around Legolas before he could think of a vague but acceptable answer. "Don't start behaving like the proper elf prince now for the first time in your life," she scolded him, swatting his arm playfully. "You've grown up so much that if you behaved all maturely too I wouldn't be able to recognize you."

"I know that you're excited, my daughter," said Elrond dryly, "but it's still in poor form to strangle such an esteemed guest of the city right before your wedding."

Legolas thanked Elbereth for Elrond when Arwen sheepishly let go of him with a laugh. He nodded slightly to the elven lord who returned the gesture stiffly. "Greetings, Legolas Thranduilion," Elrond addressed him. "Your father sent to me two things to gift to you. As I can plainly see that you've already received the package that contained your courtly attire, all I have left to deliver is his love for you."

"Thank you, my lord," replied Legolas in a choked voice.

Arwen laced her fingers through his, squeezing Legolas' hand sympathetically with one hand and rubbing his arm comfortingly with the other. She couldn't imagine what he was going through, spending all of that time away from everything that was familiar only to find out that his home was attacked and none of his people could be with him during the days of celebration. Well, she and the rest of her family had always unofficially acknowledged him as one of their own and she was determined to cheer him up. "You look very handsome," she offered. A joking twitch bent her lips. "Everyone will probably be so busy looking at you that they won't even notice me."

He didn't want the attention of everyone in the city; all he wanted was to be free to love their king. "I don't think that you have anything to worry about," Legolas assured her. Indeed, she was a vision in her voluminous gown that was the perfect shade of green to make her blue eyes stand out; and the butterfly-style crown that highlighted the delicate points of her ears. Anger and jealousy twisted Legolas' insides and he sternly reminded himself that Arwen had no knowledge about him and Aragorn ever being involved.

While he fought down his negative feelings, Arwen continued to study his facial expression and body language. She could tell that he was still troubled. How she wished that there was something that she could do to take his mind off of the plight of his realm for a little while! Arwen thought for a moment before her eyes lit up with inspiration. "Legolas, I know that you've just completed an incredible task for all of Middle-earth," she said. "Yet would you permit me to ask a favor of you?"

What more could she possibly expect him to give? "Of course, Arwen."

"I have a bit of a dilemma," she explained. "Ada will be giving me away, but that leaves us with no one to walk before us and present us to Aragorn. Choosing who that person should be between Elladan and Elrohir had proven to be too difficult for me and I would feel rather foolish if I had both of them do it – why, the people of Gondor would think that I was overly extravagant or too indecisive! Since you're practically family anyway –"

Elrond cleared his throat. "Arwen," he said warningly, "it might be best if you made this request of someone in our household. It is not polite to impose on Legolas at this late time."

"Normally I wouldn't have waited so long but I haven't seen him until now," protested Arwen to her father before turning back to Legolas. "Please, mellon nin; given your close friendship with Aragorn I can't think of a better person to do this for us."

Legolas desperately tried to think of one reason – any reason, save the real one – why he couldn't accept but came up with nothing. "I'd be honored to do it," he told her, subdued.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Arwen, planting a chaste but enthusiastic peck on his cheek. With that taken care of, her attention was drawn to the gigantic crowd of Men and honored guests that had almost completely formed by then. "Oh, I think we're about ready to start! If you'll excuse me, I must gather the rest of the procession. I can't believe the time has almost come!"

"Go with her, my sons; and at least make sure that her gown doesn't get ruined or her crown fall off in her excitement," instructed Elrond. "That will give Legolas and I a few moments alone to discuss…what his duty today entails."

The three children of Elrond scurried off to make sure that the days events started off perfectly, leaving the lord and Legolas behind them. "I know what you're thinking and you're wrong," Legolas blurted out before Elrond could say anything. He was too weary and worn-down in spirit to possess the strength to engage in a full-scale debate with the wise elf. "She wanted me to do this for her so badly that I couldn't very well refuse without offering a good excuse as to why not. Unfortunately, the only one I have right now is that I'm in love with her intended and that just wouldn't do at all, would it?"

"Legolas, I know that you'd consciously do anything to disrupt the wedding," said Elrond carefully, trying to balance the affection he had for the young elf before him with his concern for his daughter's future, "but even the most controlled people have moments of weakness."

"And I've indulged in those already," countered Legolas, irritability creeping into his miserable tone. "Don't worry, Lord Elrond; I'm not planning to disrupt the ceremony and that includes both my conscious and unconscious behavior. Maybe, maybe – I didn't really get a chance to formally say goodbye to Aragorn; maybe this will serve that purpose."

"I knew that he's been in love with you ever since he came home after that summer he spent in Mirkwood," admitted Elrond quietly. He nodded when Legolas looked at him with raised eyebrows. "It's true. That's one of the primary reasons why I disapproved of his relationship with Arwen so strongly – I knew that no matter how deeply he felt for her she would only be but a replacement for the one that he truly loved. I tried to tell them both that he could never really love her in a way that a husband should love his spouse, but I suppose he didn't listen until it was too late for both of them. I thought – I thought that she'd finally heeded my advice to take the ship into the West, but then…her mortality." He bit off a cry. "I'm truly sorry that you have to suffer through all of this, Legolas."

"We can't control what other people do any more than we can change the past," said Legolas, allowing one more look of raw emotion to come to his face before he had to act like the stoic-but-pleased friend of the bride and groom. "The only thing we can do is try to do the best that we can with the choices that were made. Come, Lord Elrond; the procession is gathering and we shouldn't be late.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

With a resoluteness that Aragorn, unsurprisingly enough, found incredibly oppressive, Gandalf the White lowered the winged crown of Gondor onto the Man's head. "Now begins the days of the king," the wizard announced proudly.

And Gandalf had reason to be proud – Aragorn had proven himself more than worthy to claim the long-unoccupied throne; and what was more important was that he was willing to take on the responsibilities that seat came with. When Aragorn looked up and gave him a closed-mouth, accepting grin, the wizard felt a rush of fondness course through him. Yes, little Estel Elrondion had grown up quite magnificently into Elessar Telcontar. He could sense a great sadness in the Man, but that was only natural considering that he was essentially saying goodbye to the life that he'd always known for one that he might not have chosen on his own. "May those days be blessed," he added in a whisper meant only for Aragorn's ears.

Then Gandalf took a step back, conceding all attention to the new king. Aragorn didn't accept it right away though; first he needed a moment to mourn all that he was giving up for the good of others. _'Kissing Legolas,'_ he thought wistfully as he imagined the elf's soft lips pressed against his as their tongues dueled. _'Traveling all over Middle-earth. Waking up with Legolas at my side. Butterbur's fine ale at the Prancing Pony in Bree. The sound of Legolas' voice when he tells me that he loves me. Being able to secretly observe the simple lives of the hobbits of the Shire while the rangers guard that land. Being able to look at Legolas without being worried that someone might discover how much I love him. Going to Rivendell to see my father and brothers without it being too much of a fuss to get away. The feeling of utter wholeness I get when Legolas clenches his body around me…'_

While he would never be rid of the regret he felt at losing those beloved things, Aragorn knew that for now he had to bury that. Taking a deep breath, he turned and faced the crowd. "This day does not belong to one Man, but to all," he said with a perfect mixture of grandness and humbleness that proved that he'd actually been paying attention when Elrond had lectured him about the proper etiquette of a ruler. "Let us now work together to rebuild this world so that we may share it in peace."

The crowd approved of this sentiment, judging by the thunderous applause he received. This was accompanied by white rose petals that fell from the sky and Aragorn was suddenly struck with the memory of the first snowfall that the Fellowship had encountered on the Quest. Everyone else had immediately huddled together under blankets; but Legolas, unaffected by the cold – as elves generally were – had moved gracefully about. It had almost looked like he was dancing while trying to catch the snowflakes in his hands –

'_No!'_ Aragorn admonished himself, mortified by the way he almost lost all sense of where he was. _'There will be private moments later on where I can indulge in these memories; now I have to think about getting through this.'_

He closed his eyes briefly to banish the beautiful image and search for a reminder of why he had been willing to give up all that made him happy for people who would never know of his sacrifice. The words that Elendil – who had been forced to come to a strange land after the home he left behind was completely destroyed – came from long ago into his mind and he sang:

"_Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome_

_Maruwan ar Hildenyar tenn'_

_Ambar-metta."_

(Out of the Great Sea to this Middle-earth have I come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.)

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Aragorn scoured the crowd as he walked through it. He saw Faramir and Eowyn side-by-side, the radiance of love in their faces as they bowed. Eomer stepped forward to bow as well, a gesture that he returned with an incline of his head. The hobbits were present as well and he would pay them due honor soon enough. Gimli continued to stand by Gandalf on the stairs behind him. There was only one face that the new king desired to see, however and it wasn't anywhere to be found.

There! Aragorn's heart leapt as the elvish host, led by Legolas, approached him. His one true love was beautiful beyond even what the eloquent words of the ancient elves could describe. The selfish part of the Man wanted to grab him and run from it all, but of course he didn't. Instead he grasped Legolas' shoulder as if he was the only thing keeping Aragorn from drifting away. "Hannon lle," the king said. _'For loving me, for understanding why I have to do this, and for still being here for me,' _he added silently.

Legolas could barely stand to look at Aragorn, lest he dissolve right then and there. It had been a foolish daydream of his that his lover would change his mind; something that he wouldn't have known how to respond to if it had actually happened, but a sweet way to help him keep his promise to Arwen nonetheless. Now reality was coming up behind him in the form of his beloved's bride. Not trusting himself to speak, he gestured back to her with his eyes and then stepped off to the side.

Aragorn watched in muted horror as the lovely Arwen approached him in her exquisite dress and crown and handed him a banner. She bowed her head and he reached out and grasped her chin, urging it back up so that he could examine her face.

He felt absolutely nothing for her.

Not even the bond of friendship and fondness that used to be there; her unintentional role in robbing him of his relationship with Legolas had smothered it away for now. He could only hope that the disinterest would fade away and he could at least learn to like again the person he would be spending the rest of his life with. When he claimed her lips to seal their union, Aragorn hoped that no one realized how much he was overcompensating for the feelings that just weren't there. _'I can make this work,'_ he told himself as he continued the kiss that left him cold inside. _'I have to.'_

To be continued…


	4. Pulled back in

There were only three faces that didn't look happy in a courtyard full of revelers who were enjoying the new king and queen's wedding reception to the fullest: Frodo, Legolas, and Eomer. The poor hobbit, still and always feeling the affects of the Ring's destruction, stood with a faraway look on his face while he half-heartedly responded to his cousins' attempts to cheer him up. The king of Rohan was genuinely happy for the royal couple but his mind was too weighed down by other more somber things for him to really join in the festivities. As for Legolas, the pain of losing Aragorn had only intensified since the wedding and it was all he could do to try to work up the strength to give his love and Arwen the obligatory congratulations so he could leave without rousing suspicion.

First, however, he needed some information about King Théoden's funeral procession. He was grateful that the person he needed it from didn't look much happier than he felt – at least he had a better chance of getting through the conversation without having to gush about how _fantastic_ the day's events were. "King Eomer," he greeted as he approached the new monarch. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

"That's quite all right," sighed Eomer. He gave the elf a small, closed-lipped smile. "I was just thinking about…family. How can I help you?"

"I guess it's related to that very topic," hedged Legolas. As much as he wanted to know what Eomer was planning so that he could prepare how escape from that horribly awkward situation in Minas Tirith, he didn't want to make another person miserable. "I shouldn't be bothering you…"

He turned to leave but Eomer's voice made him pause. "You're wondering what plans I've made for my uncle's funeral," he said knowingly with no bitterness in his voice. "It's all right, master elf; I've come to terms with losing him; in fact I must confess that isn't even what's occupying my mind."

"Really?" asked Legolas, genuinely curious. "Then what is?"

"My sister," replied Eomer with a wry smile. "She appears to be in love."

"And you don't approve?"

"Well, no." He looked over to where Eowyn and Faramir, the new steward of Gondor, were in deep conversation. "But she wishes to marry him, and to lose her to marriage so soon after losing my uncle to death…." He bit his lip and looked back toward Legolas. "That's why I'm not entirely happy at this joyous occasion. Do you have a similar reason?"

Legolas tried to work up the energy to look surprised. "I thought that I was hiding it so well," he murmured. "I – I just received word before the ceremony that my home was attacked while I was away," he said, suddenly feeling ashamed that he hadn't really been thinking about it. "It's difficult for me to celebrate while my people are dead or devastated and the land burned and stained."

"No wonder you're anxious to know when the funeral will be," remarked Eomer. "I'm afraid that it won't be right away; I want to make Rohan ready before bringing his body home. With the journey there and back and all I'll have to do between then it will be more than a month before the funeral procession can begin. You don't have to attend, master elf; I understand that you have duties to attend to elsewhere."

"King Theoden was a fine ruler who showed me a lot of hospitality during a time when very few people would welcome strangers," said Legolas firmly. "I _will_ pay him due respect, King Eomer."

Eomer looked at him with a new warmth and respect; he already knew that Legolas was a skilled warrior but hadn't considered before then that he was also a likable person. "I'd be happy if you call me Eomer, master elf."

For the first time in several days Legolas gave a real smile, tiny though it was. "I will, if you call me Legolas."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A lot have people had wished them well that evening; Aragorn was just happy that the one doing it now was someone he actually knew. "If there's one thing I like," gushed Sam cheerfully, "it's a happy ending. That doesn't always happen, you know; I can't think of many grand tales that get 'em."

"Grand tales?" echoed Aragorn.

"Yeah! You know, those stories of grand adventures, the ones that really matter." Sam paused to glance over his shoulder at Frodo, who appeared to be trying to focus on whatever Merry was talking about to make him gesture so wildly. This wasn't the first time that the hobbit gardener had checked on his master during the course of his conversation with Aragorn and Arwen, but this time a wistful smile ghosted over his features before he turned back to the royal couple. "Like the one about Gil-galad and the Last Alliance, or that one you were singing about during the trip from Bree to Rivendell – about Luthien and Beren. Great tales that stuck with you, those were, but they always ended so sad."

"Perhaps they did not finish with the words 'and they all lived happily ever after until the end of their days'," Aragorn had to chuckle ironically. "Not all of them can end like Bilbo's book, and now not even his story will have that conclusion. The presence of death doesn't make mean that a story's ending isn't happy. Most times the conclusions in life are ultimately neither joyful nor devastating, but a little bit of both. That's simply the way that life works.

Sam smiled and blushed. "Forgive me, but that's all a little too complicated and gloomy for me right now," he said ruefully. "Will it be all right with the two of you if I just revel in the fact that good has triumphed over evil, the great king has returned to his people, and said king got his title _and _got to marry the elf of his dreams on the same day? I could really use a happy ending right about now."

"Oh, I think that will be all right just this once," teased Arwen, taking Aragorn's hand and beaming radiantly up at him. "Stop this nonsense about death and bittersweet endings at once, mela nin!"

She didn't notice the flash of pain in Aragorn's eyes at her use of the term of endearment that Legolas had called him so often. "After all," she continued obliviously, "we've waited for so long for this day. Now that it's finally here we should enjoy it and – for _once_ – not worry about what tomorrow may bring."

"I can agree with that," said Aragorn with all honestly. Truth be told, he was much too focused on making it through the evening to be too concerned about any of the coming days. He felt so – so phony; like some pawn who smiled, laughed, and spoke when others expected him to without once showing his genuine emotions.

Nodding mindlessly at as Sam and Arwen continued to speak words that he was no longer listening to Aragorn almost wished that he could simply slip away from the party, flee from the eyes of everyone who expected him to appear blissfully happy with his wife at his side. In the end, though, he knew that when he excused himself he would find no refuge in his privacy. Arwen would come with him, of course; all the way to the bedchamber that was now theirs. Their marriage bed would be awaiting them and she would expect them to consummate their union. There was no way to get around that now, even when Aragorn felt absolutely no passion for her at all. How was he going to go through with it? How could he fake with Arwen what he'd sincerely experienced with Legolas?

Forcing himself to laugh when she playfully nudged him in the side, Aragorn scoured the crowd for his true love. After a few scans he finally spotted him conversing with Eomer in one of the more quiet corners of the party. He saw Legolas give the other king a smile that made Aragorn suddenly remember the night that he realized that only one elf would forever hold his heart.

_Flashback_

_He hadn't meant to brood all the way to wherever Arwen was leading him but Aragorn found that he couldn't help it. Honestly, he didn't even know why he still went in that room at all, where all of the relics of the Last Alliance were stored. He supposed that he did it to punish himself for being a member of the weak race of Men and carrying within him the bloodline of the one who'd ensured that evil would endure into these days. Contemplating what Isildur had done and what he was about to be expected to do to atone for it always put the Man into a pensive mood._

_That mood was made all the more intense that night by his encounter with Lord Denethor's son, Boromir. Aragorn had met the steward of Gondor a long time ago – before he received his title – and was dismayed to find that his eldest was ever bit as proud and arrogant as his father. To see the young Man (at his age, most Men were young in his eyes) be so awed at beholding Narsil one moment and treating it with such utter disrespect the next made the ranger slightly queasy. Would that be how the people of Gondor would react to him as well: secretly curious about having a relic of the ancient past in their midst but outwardly scorn him as having nothing to do with their current lives? Had Isildur's betrayal made him and that once mighty sword forever nothing more than a broken heirloom?_

_In the midst of all of this Arwen had come to him with words of comfort that left him feeling cold and slightly incredulous. She wasn't the first person to ever tell him that he was not Isildur, nor was he bound to his fate. Many before her had told him with all confidence that he _would_ (never _could_ – Gandalf, Elrond, his brothers, and the rangers never seemed to have a doubt that he was somehow impervious to the Ring's will) defeat the same temptation that his forefather hadn't; it had been going on quite steadily since he'd found out about his true heritage. Those words were so familiar, in fact, that he could no longer find any reassurance in them at all. He still accepted them nonetheless; it shouldn't have bothered him so much when Arwen said it that night, as she had countless other nights before._

_It did, though, and he was troubled to find out why. All of those other people encouraged him because they all wanted something from him: to unite the world of Men and take up the throne of Gondor. They loved him too, but at his darkest moments Aragorn couldn't help but feel that their personal emotions were far too entangled with everything that they'd hoped he'd be to ever know where one ended and the other began. He could accept that the full love of the others might be contingent on his success, but it bothered him that Arwen's might as well. She was supposed to be the one who loved him most, no matter if he stayed a ranger or became the greatest king who ever lived._

_To make matters worse she'd went on to add something that made him pause. "The Shadow holds no sway here," she'd comforted in a breathy whisper that he didn't have the heart to tell her that he found quite irritating. "Not over you; not over me."_

_Try as he might Aragorn couldn't get that out of his mind. The Shadow holds no sway over him or her? What did the sheltered Arwen know about the Shadow? They only time she'd ever been out of a ring-protected realm in her entire life were when she traveled – heavily guarded – between Rivendell and Lothlorien. It took a lot of gull, or ignorance, or both, to presume to be an expert about what affect the Shadow did and didn't have on him._

'You're being unfair,' _he told himself. _'She just tracked me and the hobbits and even faced down the Nine to save Frodo!' _But that wasn't entirely true either; she'd never strayed too far from Rivendell's borders and then had _outrun_ the Nine on a horse that she knew was faster than theirs to a river that she knew would rise up against them. One frantic ride with a gravely injured hobbit didn't make her an authority on all of the evils that Sauron would unleash when motivated and desperate._

'What about her mother?'_ Aragorn scolded himself. _'She lost her mother to an orc attack.' _That was a horrible loss to go through to be sure; yet countless others had suffered similar ones. Why was her pain any more grievous than any of there's? Especially since she hadn't been forced to witness the torture that her mother had endured while too many broken souls Aragorn had encountered over the years hadn't been as fortunate. The Man himself had lost both of his parents as well as countless friends and fellow rangers and yet he had to keep fighting while she got more than sufficient time to recover from her loss while under the protection of Nenya and Vilya. The more he thought about it, the more he resented the authority in which she presumed to have when she lectured him about the power of the Shadow._

"_Mela," she said excitedly, breaking through his increasingly bitter thoughts. She took his hands and led him up to a small bridge. "We're here. Of all of the places in the world where the Shadow could never reach us, it is this place."_

"_Hmmm," mumbled Aragorn._

_She frowned worriedly at him and caressed his cheek lovingly. "Do you not remember this place, my dear love?"_

_He certainly did. They were at the exact location where he'd first laid eyes on Arwen. He'd been only twenty and dealing with so many changes in his life: his ada had just told him that he was the heir to a terribly burdensome family line, and was about to be sent to the rangers of the North to become one of their numbers start to take his place in a world that he hadn't been a part of since he was two-years-old. On top of all of that he'd fallen in love for the first time with the prince of Mirkwood and then lost him. Encountering a copy of Luthien herself while trying to come to terms with all of that had rendered Aragorn dumbstruck. In the ensuing years he continued to be awed by her grace and beauty, even when liking her as a person had been difficult…_

"_Do you remember when we first met?" asked Arwen, a mysterious glint in her eyes that Aragorn wasn't sure that he liked._

"_I thought I'd strayed into a dream," recalled Aragorn. Why was all of this bitterness and doubt coming to him in a rush now? Had he truly been dreaming all through their relationship? If he had been it would certainly explain why he felt like he was waking up after a long sleep._

"_Long years have passed," she said almost regretfully as she stroked his face. There was surprised sadness in her voice when she added, "You didn't have the cares that you have now."_

'Of course I didn't,'_ Aragorn had to restrain himself from blurting out. _'I was twenty-years-old! I had no idea at what the world was going to be like, the homelessness I would go through and the scorn I would face as a ranger. I didn't know that I'd be seeing the worst places of the world, seeing the horrible aftermaths of Enemy attacks and struggling to help the people left in the wake. Now I've seen much of Middle-earth, experienced immense joy and unspeakable loss many times over, and have come to realize the full weight of my destiny. It's called _growing up_. Are you still the same person that you were that night that I thought I'd brought you to life by singing about Beren and Luthien? Have you not grown at all?' _By the Valar, what was wrong with him? Why was he feeling so sarcastic all of the sudden?_

_Thankfully she was too wrapped up in reminiscing to look too closely at how he was feeling now. "Do you remember what I told you?" she asked, almost bursting with excitement and anticipation._

"_That you would bind yourself to me," he responded slowly. Arwen looked up into his face. It made his nausea grow, seemingly inexplicably, so he chose to look at her Evenstar pendant instead. "Forsaking the immortal life of your people."_

"_And to that I hold," declared Arwen in a breathless tone. Aragorn's skin turned suddenly cold. "I'd rather spend one lifetime with you than all the ages of this world alone."_

_He felt her press something into his hand and fold his fingers down. Pulling slightly back, Aragorn uncurled them and beheld the Evenstar, the symbol of all that she was. Blind panic seized him and he looked on her with pleading eyes. "You cannot give me this!" he burst out._

_Before, when the strange mood wasn't upon him, he would have immediately felt bad for raising his voice; now, however, he was too struck by her ignorant self-absorption to care. He was about to travel the dangerous paths that led East, protecting a hobbit who possessed the One Ring (for whatever took place at Elrond's council the next day Aragorn was certain that Frodo would end up having to bear the Ring and Aragorn couldn't in good conscience let him face that burden alone). During the days that would follow he would have to resist its temptation while somehow finding a way to prove himself so great a leader – when he wasn't even sure that he _could_ be that great a leader – that the world of Men wouldn't be able to come to any other conclusion but that he was worthy to be the king. He didn't need the extra burden of known that she'd given up everything on the slim chance that he'd succeed – he didn't _want_ it._

"_It's mine to give to whom I will," she smiled confidently. "Like my heart."_

_Most men, and elves for that matter, would have given up almost anything to be in the place where he was now: with Arwen Evenstar's head tilted up as him, touching her lips to his, but all Aragorn felt was melancholy frustration. "Arwen," he said, pulling away._

"_I know what you're going to say," she interrupted him. "But I know that you will succeed and this is my way of always reminding you of that. This is what's best for both of us, my love."_

_She didn't understand; she couldn't possibly comprehend the possibility that she was wrong in any way about this. He'd never asked her for such a permanent commitment, he realized, not because he was worried about her but because he wasn't ready for it. Arwen was very childlike in that respect – self-centered due to ignorance and lack of experience rather than true nastiness, seeing the Man she claimed to love as a selfless and perfect hero instead of a fallible being. Now she had decided that it was best that he be weighed down with her fate as well as the rest of Middle-earth's and he would have a lifetime of either living up to her lofty expectations or else always disappoint her. How had he managed to fall in love with someone like that?_

'Maybe you never did,' _whispered a voice at the back of his mind._

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

_A short while later Aragorn made his way back to the House of Elrond with a heavy heart. He didn't love Arwen. That realization almost brought him to his knees: he liked her, cared about her, loved her as a dear friend would, but he had never been in love with her. The shock of meeting someone so beautiful combined with the need for his break-up with Legolas not to have been in vain had made him _want_ to love her, but actually falling in love had little to do with whether or not a person wanted to do so. Now what was he supposed to do? He had no idea._

_Actually, he did have one idea that came to him suddenly: avoid getting hit in the face by the door. The main door flew open just as he was reaching for the handle. He dove backwards and only his quick reflexes saved him from getting a black eye or landing on his bottom. "I'm so sorry," apologized the person on the other side in a hissing whisper._

_Aragorn's heart stopped for a second; the next beat felt like it the first time it had done that in years. "Legolas?"_

_A blonde head peered around the door and indeed Aragorn saw that it was his first love. "Aragorn!" the elf exclaimed._

"_I didn't know that you were here," stammered Aragorn. "Why didn't you come find me?"  
_

"_Well, I didn't know that you were here either," countered Legolas. "You weren't at the feast tonight. Strange how the world works, isn't it? I didn't see you for decades and now it's been twice in one year. At least you don't have a disgusting, wretched creature with you this time."_

_Aragorn would have laughed had it not been for the pained look in the prince's eyes. "This isn't a social visit," observed Aragorn wisely. "What brought you here?"_

"_He escaped. Gollum is free." A haunted expression passed over Legolas' face but he managed to banish it almost instantly. "That's why I've come. Mithrandir must be made aware of what happened and it's only right that a member of the royal family take responsibility for our failure to keep that vile thing like we promised."_

"_That's a tale that I'd be interested in hearing as well," said Aragorn in a low, urgent voice, taking the elf's arm and attempting to lead him away._

_Legolas calmly but firmly stood his ground, gently dislodging the Man's hold. "Not now," he said; and for the first time in their acquaintance his voice sounded utterly exhausted in Aragorn's ears. "I only arrived today after weeks of tense travel to tell a wizard that something has happened that may very well spoil his plans. Your father seems to be under the impression that I'm in dire need of rest and practically ordered me to my bedchamber after I ate, making it necessary for the first time in centuries for me to sneak out of this House. And, if all of that wasn't enough, there were dwarves at the feast. I don't think I could take recounting the story of Gollum's escape now."_

_He smiled but Aragorn could tell that his heart wasn't in it. "He didn't just escape, did he?" the Man persisted. "He – he had help, and your realm lost people in the process?"_

_The elf's shoulders sagged a little. "Yes. There were orcs."_

"_I'm sorry, Legolas."_

"_Thank you, but don't be," sighed Legolas wearily. "You didn't cause this."_

_Feeling the burden of Isildur's folly more strongly than ever Aragorn shut his eyes and bowed his head. "I brought Gollum to Mirkwood," he murmured, almost to himself. "And who knows how many more miseries that the weakness of my bloodline will bring to others?"_

"_And I should have been able to save my people, either by seeing into the future or by holding back the orcs all by myself," Legolas said with kind pointedness. "Elbereth, Aragorn; how do you sleep at night, or do all that walking and running with all of that on your conscience? You're a person, not a Vala; and not even a Vala is held responsible for what another Vala does. You're a good Man, Aragorn, but even the best of us all can't stop very bad things from happening."_

"_I'll keep that in mind," said Aragorn. "Would you like some company?"_

"_No thank you," replied Legolas, gazing beyond him to the trees. "I need a chance to gather my thoughts before I have to spill them all at the Council tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe this won't be a total loss; perhaps I can find something to do to help Mithrandir in his task."_

"_Like what?"_

"_The same as you," Legolas told him as he started to walk away. "What I can, done at the best of my ability. And I, like you, would offer more if I could but unfortunately no one can do better than their best."_

_How strange; how utterly strange and wonderful. There wasn't a tearful reunion or melodramatic words of comfort but Aragorn felt so refreshed. It was nice to have someone believe in him without making him feel like they judged him for every failure. Legolas had treated him like he had when neither of them knew about Aragorn's heritage without acting as if he wasn't supposed to have changed since that time. With all that he and his realm dealt with on a daily basis, he _understood_. Seeing that, feeling the way he did in his presence, the Man suddenly couldn't remember why he'd fallen out of love with him._

'Maybe you never did,'_ the helpful voice in his mind suggested._

_End flashback_

"Legolas!"

His new wife's called jolted Aragorn back into reality, where Arwen was enthusiastically waving to the blonde prince. "Legolas, get over here! We haven't seen you all night!"

Slowly Legolas obeyed. "Greetings, Arwen, Aragorn," he said softly, barely glancing at his secret love.

"Greetings? Is that all you have to say?" demanded Arwen with cheerful incredulousness. "Where have you _been_ all evening? I wanted to thank you again for presenting me to Aragorn, and I never did get a proper hug from you this morning."

"Forgive me," replied Legolas, giving her a stiff-armed hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I've been preoccupied with getting ready to leave. Eomer has informed me that King Théoden's funeral won't be for some weeks and I don't wish to impose on you or the city anymore."

"But you aren't!" protested Arwen. "Legolas, I know how worried you are about your father and Mirkwood but you'll never make it there and back in time for the king's funeral procession from the city."

"I wasn't planning on trying," Legolas informed her. "I just – want to be alone for awhile."

Arwen gave him a fiercely protective look. "So you can make yourself feel as guilty as you want without anyone around to help you?" she asked. "You need to be with the people that you love and who love you at a time like this; let us be there for you. Aragorn, talk to him."

Aragorn didn't need any more prompting – he knew that he was going to have to give up his relationship with Legolas, but not having the prince around so soon after losing him would make it feel so unbearably permanent. "Don't go," he said, his tone not giving away anything but his eyes begging. "Stay, if not for yourself then for me. It will be…jarring enough to put all that this War has brought into my life behind me without losing your – companionship so soon after as well. Help me – ease the transition, please."

Legolas could have said no. He had every reason to say no and absolutely no obligation to do otherwise. However, he loved Aragorn and so much of his life lately had been focused on helping him; it was difficult to just suddenly stop now. "Very well," he conceded, ignoring the part of him that was screaming that he would be paying for this decision with great pain. "I will stay."

To be continued…

_A/N: Canonically Aragorn's mother didn't die until much later in his life and not in an orc attack, but this is an AU and it serves my purposes better if she died when his father did._

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to review so far – it really means a lot to me!_


	5. The turn of the tide

_A/N: A short conversation between Aragorn and Elrond is featured in this chapter; while it's not technically a flashback, it does take place before the events here. Therefore it's italicized, although it's not set apart in any other way._

It had been six long weeks since the wedding when he made his foolish promise to stay and Legolas Greenleaf laid on his bed, staring that the ceiling in his chamber in the citadel of Minas Tirith. He didn't know how long he'd been like that, so occupied his mind was with summoning enough courage to do what he'd been terrified to do all evening. There was no reason why he should put this off anymore – after all, he already somehow _knew _what he'd find – but actually making the effort to confirm it…. It felt like as long as he didn't know it wasn't real; when he accepted his condition, however, his life would never be the same.

'_Stop this! You are neither a coward nor a child,' _Legolas scolded himself. He winced at the last word he'd used but refused to acknowledge the reaction. It was too real, much too real. _'If this is truly what you've begun to suspect it is then there's nothing that you can do about. Pretending that _nothing _has happened certainly won't help very much, at any rate.'_

Even as he struggled to handle what he had to do, he really didn't want to. What he _wanted_ to do was flee from the citadel, from that accursed city, and hide somewhere until the situation was somehow magically made right again. Elbereth, hadn't he already endured enough heartache and torment? It had been a little over two months since his relationship with Aragorn had come to its abrupt end and yet it still seemed to him like it had just happened. Of course, spending one and a half months as his former lover and his new wife's guest, forcing himself to pretend that he was happy and all was well, wasn't making matters more bearable.

Legolas' days had become remarkably similar and always dreary. He awoke every morning, later and later each day, to attend the morning meal where he acted as if he hadn't lost the love of his life. He smiled as the hobbits regaled him with tales of their adventures during the War, what they'd done since the coronation, and what they were planning on doing to keep them out of trouble (or rather, what was going to _get_ them into trouble) that day. He traded barbs with Gimli, playfully taunting the dwarf about his promise to accompany Legolas to Fangorn Forest one day. He even made it a point to join in – as much as he could bear to, at least – when Elladan and Elrohir dropped less-than-subtle teasing hints to Aragorn and their sister about – about their new roles and duties as each other's husband and wife.

Legolas choked back a sob, closing his eyes tightly to keep himself from weeping, as he remembered the conversation at breakfast just that morning. He'd been picking at him food when Elladan let out an especially crude remark about "hearing loud grunts emanating from the royal bedchamber" before asking if they were "practicing their combat moves" and giving a rather suggestive wink. Thank Elbereth that everyone was too busy laughing to notice how he dropped his spoon and lost control of the cry that tore from his lips. It was heartbreaking enough to know what Aragorn and Arwen were doing at night – joining their bodies…her feeling him within her …him touching her in the same ways that he used to touch Legolas only a couple of months earlier; hearing about it – even when it was just teasing suggestions – made him want to scream out his despair from the pinnacle of the White Tower.

The worst part of it, though, was the way in which Aragorn and Arwen responded to the twins' ribbing. The Man would always give them a secretive little smile and pat her hands (which was _always_ lingering on his arm). She would then, always on cue, blush modestly and beam because, well because they were doing exactly what Elladan and Elrohir were so tactlessly asserting that they were doing every night. They _had_ to be. Most newlywed couples, especially those who'd been required to wait for as long as they had, tended to indulge to the point of gluttony in that very activity in the weeks following the wedding. Even if Aragorn's heart wasn't in it he surely wouldn't want to hurt Arwen's feelings or rouse her suspicions by refusing.

'_Who knows?'_ a treacherous voice in his mind taunted him. _'Maybe he can't wait until it's time to go to bed every night because he _wants _to be with her. How do you that you weren't just a distraction during the War and that he was planning on leaving you even when you first made love?'_ Legolas had been trying to ignore that voice for awhile now, logically knowing that it was but a result of his continuing grief; yet at times he couldn't help wondering if it was right. The very thought had made him nauseous for weeks.

'_Well,'_ he corrected himself grimly, _'it's at least part of the reason why I've been so sick to my stomach lately.'_ Legolas' physical and mental health had been deteriorating to the point that he was shocked that no one had mentioned anything about it to him. A general exhaustion had taken hold of him. If he continued his pattern of sleeping later and later he would end up missing one of the torturous morning meals pretty soon; and all of that extra sleep didn't appear to be enough since he had started retiring earlier each night. He no longer bothered to tie his hair back into the traditional warrior braid. _'The War is over and the Enemy is vanquished – what need is there for me to look like I'm ready to go into battle in a world of peace?' _had been his excuse when Merry and Pippin started questioning him about it in their innocently curious way, but in truth he couldn't conjure up enough energy each morning to do it. His days were filled with nothing but aimless wandering about the city, trying to avoid people and engaging in half-hearted conversations with those who managed to corner him. The once-proud and always-ready elf was quickly turning into a pensive, depressed introvert.

Unbeknownst to him, Legolas' rapidly deteriorating condition had not gone unnoticed by those around him. Everyone could see him falling apart although it took a long time for any of them to mention it for very much the same reason why the elf prince was so reluctant to acknowledge his condition now: once they'd given voice to their fears that Legolas was fading it would somehow become real. It had finally been Pippin who'd had the courage – or frightened bluntness – to bring it up one morning as he and the others were waiting for Legolas to arrive. Once the words "Does anyone know what's wrong with him?" left the young hobbit's lips the floodgates were opened and everyone spoke at once.

Over the frenzied conversations of everyone's speculations Elladan and Elrohir had shared with them what they'd told Legolas about the attacks on Mirkwood and his reactions to them. This was all new to the hobbits and Gimli (the latter becoming even more worried when he realized that his dear friend hadn't confided in him) and even Arwen, who knew enough about Legolas' nature to guess at how he'd responded when he heard the news, hadn't realized how badly he'd taken it. With Aragorn and Elrond remaining unusually silent everyone had agreed that this was the reason for the elf's uncharacteristic behavior. After a few disagreements as to how much they should do directly to help him through this difficult time, they'd decided that everyone should treat him as normally as possible while keeping an extra sharp eye out for evidence that he'd taken a turn for the worse.

Aragorn had caught Elrond's eye while he was nodding along to all of this and the elf lord inwardly cringed to behold what he saw there. The new king was clearly beside himself with worry; he was afraid of losing Legolas and regretting leaving him in the first place. That choosing to be with Arwen might actually kill his real love had never crossed Aragorn's mind before and Elrond was concerned that his foster son was about to do something rash. As soon as the meal ended, he'd pulled Aragorn into the king's private office to talk.

"_I've done this to him," Aragorn had lamented as soon as the door closed behind them. "This cannot continue, Ada; I can't put him through this anymore. It's _killing _him."_

_Elrond had immediately known that what he'd feared was about to come true. "Legolas is strong," he'd tried to reassure him. "But even the mightiest of warriors cannot recover instantly from so great a loss. He will be fine in time, as time mends all wounds."_

"_You know from personal experience that isn't always true," Aragorn had countered savagely, not caring at the moment that alluding to Celebrian in such a callous way might hurt Elrond. "He doesn't need time; he needs _me_."_

"_Do you wish to abandon your wife then? Are you going to humiliate and reject her after she gave up her life and her people to be with you?"_

'_Yes,' Aragorn had almost blurted out, but the elf lord's tone had stopped his tongue for several moments. "I suppose that is not an option," he'd finally answered reluctantly. "I made a vow to her and I will not break it. But it is Legolas that I love –"_

"_And you cannot have them both," Elrond had reminded him sharply. Aragorn had grimaced at that and the elf immediately checked his temper, allowing his face to soften as he continued. "I know that none of this has been easy for you and I'm truly sorry for it. But you of all people know Legolas – do you really believe that he would be happy if he left your wife to be with him? He and Arwen are like brother and sister; it would torment him to no end to know that he played any part in her eternal misery."_

"_I know this," sighed Aragorn. "But he's fading…"_

"_You don't know that," replied Elrond. "I promise you, Aragorn, that if I thought for a moment that Legolas was in danger of fading I would contact his father at once before putting him on the next ship to Valinor. He is strong, my son; just give him the time he needs to recover."_

So Aragorn had done nothing. Had Legolas known about this he would have been glad for his love's decision. It saved him from having to choose between his own happiness and his desire never to betray one whom he still considered, in spite of everything, to be a sister and a friend. Like Elrond, he really didn't think that there was a chance that he was actually going to fade; and he was depending on time and his own strength to heal his emotional wounds. Or at least as best as they could be – Legolas held no illusions that he would ever fully recover from losing Aragorn after all that had happened between them.

As it happens, Legolas had been beginning to believe that the worst was over. Just earlier that that he'd been more excited than he'd been since the end of the War because Eomer had arrived at dawn's light. The king of Rohan had sent word ahead of him that he would only rest one day and then King Théoden's funeral procession would begin. The day that Legolas had been living for was going to be the very next day; only now the situation had become much more complicated…

It wasn't supposed to be that way. The solemn occasion was supposed to give Legolas an opportunity to escape his current predicament. No more sitting at the same table as Aragorn and Arwen as smiled about their nocturnal activities; he would no longer have the chance to torture himself by wondering if any of the noises he heard at night were coming from their bedchamber. After all, the only official reason he'd been staying in the White City was because he wanted to pay his respects to the fallen king. When Theoden was finally laid to rest, Legolas fully intended to hold Gimli to his word to explore Fangorn with him. No matter how much turmoil he was going through, he refused to release the dwarf from his part of their bargain; it might even do him a lot of good, now that he thought about it, to be in that wonderful place with the person he'd come to call his best friend. The trip into the forest would also give Aragorn and the royal party plenty of time to ride back to Minas Tirith and Legolas wouldn't technically have to leave his love behind. After he emerged from Fangorn and bid farewell to Gimli, Legolas had planned on traveling back to Mirkwood with all haste. There his father, people, and realm would have more than enough tasks to occupy himself with. In all of these plans Legolas had always been absolutely certain about one thing: no matter what else happened he would never, _ever_ set foot in Minas Tirith again once he left it.

It had been a good plan and probably what was best for himself, Aragorn, and Arwen. Unfortunately, when he heard that Eomer had returned he'd been so relieved that he'd lost control of his feelings for a moment; when that happened he'd noticed something about himself that his misery must have been blocking out. He'd instantly blocked it out again, but now it was on his mind and he could not forget it. And his plan…it still might work, if what he thought had happened actually hadn't.

Well, he wasn't going to get anything more than increasing anxiety if he put off his self-examination any longer. Exhaling deeply, he placed his hands on his stomach and forced himself to relax. With all of his senses tuned into what was going on inside of his body Legolas searched. He could feel…a presence there, a fragile soul, and heard –

"Dear Elbereth, _no_," he breathed as the sound of a heartbeat that was within him and yet not his own echoed in his ears.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Insistent – almost frantic – pounding on his bedchamber door woke Elrond abruptly out of his slumber. He wasn't terribly upset about it, for he was having a troubling dream about a vessel that held within it something that had the power to alter the lives of everyone he held dear. Still, he couldn't say that he was thrilled about the rude awakening either. "Yes, yes, I heard you," he mumbled, climbing out of his nice, warm bed to see who'd found it necessary to disturb him. "Are you aware that it's the middle of the – Legolas?"

The elf prince stood on the other side of the door in a shocking state. His face was totally devoid of what color it had; his hair was disheveled as Elrond had never believed it could be, tangled and flying free; and his entire body was visibly trembling. "I apologize for my intrusion, Lord Elrond," he stated hurriedly, glancing from side-to-side as if fearful that someone was going to see them together. "I do know how late the hour is and I normally wouldn't dream of bothering you, but I fear that what I need to speak to you about cannot wait."

"What is it?" inquired Elrond, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. No matter what terrible thing had happened to bring Legolas to his door, at least the young elf had just spoken more words now than he had in the last few weeks that weren't aggressively coaxed out of him. In his mind it had to be a good sign. "Has there been an urgent message of some kind? Does someone in the city need my aid?"

Legolas started to shake his head before he thought about it and slowly nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he said. His voice cracked a little. "I need for you to examine me."

One of Elrond's hands instinctively flew to Legolas' forehead, feeling for the tell-tale coolness of the skin that would signal that the fading process had begun. At the same time his other hand he gently but firmly took hold of the prince's arm in case he collapsed on the spot. Legolas' knees didn't give out, nor did he feel cold in any way but Elrond wasn't about to take any chances. "Come in, come in," he urged, carefully pulling on the younger elf's arm while cursing himself. How could he have been so lax and uncaring, turning a blind eye to Legolas' suffering just because he didn't want to believe how that Aragorn marriage would affect him so deeply? "I want you to lie down while I get Elladan and Elrohir to assist me."

"No!"

Elrond was alarmed at the force of Legolas' refusal. "Listen to me," he said more sternly. "I would feel better if there were others here to help me examine you; how could I ever face your father again if I missed something in my drowsiness? Ai Elbereth, your father! I should send word to him as soon as possible."

"Don't, please!" Legolas' cry now sounded almost frightened. "Don't call on the twins or anyone else, send nothing to my father, and we cannot do the examination here. I beg you, my lord; I need you to come with me to my bedchamber now and speak of this to no one!"

"Legolas," moaned Elrond, tired, worried, and just plain exasperated. He couldn't imagine what illness could have befallen the prince that would require so high a level of secrecy that any examination would have to be done away from his supply of healing herbs. "I am no ranger, as you well know; I don't have the equipment needed to carry my healing supplies around on my back on a moment's notice. I promise you that I will keep people out, but if you are as ill as you seem to be it cannot be kept a secret for long."

Legolas fell silent and Elrond was suddenly nervous: what if he'd just talked the blonde elf out of getting help. "I'm sure we can think up a good excuse for your illness, though," he added hastily. "Please, young Legolas; if you are really fading then we have no time to waste."

"I'm not fading, my lord," said Legolas with an utterly resigned dread that made Elrond's stomach sink. "I think I'm pregnant."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A short while later Elrond fell back into a chair that sat beside Legolas' bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Legolas sat up on the bed, propping his elbow up on his knees and cradling his forehead as he watched the lord's reaction. "I take it that I was correct in my diagnosis," the younger elf mumbled dryly.

"You're pregnant, Legolas; I'd say about two months along, give or take a week or two," confirmed Elrond. He thought for a moment on how this new development was going to make this hideously painful situation all the worse. There was only one way that he could see this turning out all right. "Do you know who the sire is?"

"It's Aragorn!" snapped Legolas, louder than he should have but he couldn't hold it back. He glared at Elrond. "I've only ever been with Aragorn, Lord Elrond; I thought you knew me better than that."

"I do, and I'm sorry," said Elrond quickly, not wanting to upset him any further lest his shouts draw unwanted attention. "I guess I was just wishing that it wasn't."

"I'll have you know that I even know when it happened," Legolas continued to rage, his anger blocking out his better judgment. "This child must have been conceived the night we set out on the Paths of the Dead."

While his daughter hovered near death in Rivendell Aragorn and Legolas were creating a child; Elrond definitely didn't like the way he felt when he thought about that. "What do you plan on doing now?" he asked a little more coldly than what the situation called for.

"I don't know," replied Legolas incredulously. "All of this has come as a bit of a shock. It's not as if I intended to get pregnant."

"It's not," said Elrond in a tone that could either be interpreted as a statement of comforting confirmation or a question of whether or not he was telling the truth. The ambiguity of it made Legolas' skin chill. "Yet it has happened and now it must be dealt with. What are you going to do, Legolas?"

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that the perfect solution would come to him. Sadly, all he could think about was whether or not other people would treat him like Elrond was at the moment. "I suppose I must tell Aragorn; it is his child, after all," he said slowly, watching the elf lord's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Elrond's eyebrows shot up but he gave no other clue as to what he thought about that.

It was easy for Legolas to fantasize about Aragorn's reaction: he would smile – a much more genuine smile than anything he'd given at those awful breakfasts – and tear up a little before taking the elf in his arms and vowing never to leave him again. Legolas wanted to so badly that he could almost feel the Man's arms around him; yet he knew that's all that it was – a fantasy. In reality Aragorn had made promises to Arwen and the people of Gondor; this child would more likely be an unwelcome complication than a blessing to him. "But – but nothing good would happen if I were to do so," Legolas went on.

"Perhaps you would be better off returning to your home," suggested Elrond tightly.

"I do want so badly to go back to Mirkwood." Legolas considered the possibility and his heart wrenched. "But it's not as if I can hide my condition there. Ada would demand to know who did this to me. He would find out eventually and there would be conflict between Mirkwood and Gondor. I – can't, Lord Elrond; I have no idea what to do."

"You could," began Elrond, but a lump in his throat seemed to be cutting off the words. He cleared his throat. "I have a number of herbs with me, Legolas, including ones that would – bring an end to pregnancies. You could take some and we could pretend that this never happened."

There it was: the answer that provided a tidy resolution. The answer that made all of his problems go away. The answer that made Legolas want to die as he thought about it. "I – I –"

"Of course it would be unwise to make any decisions right now," conceded Elrond. "It might do you well to sleep a little before you make up your mind. Take care, though, Legolas: if you're going to do this it would be best if you get it over with sooner rather than later. I will leave the herbs out on my nightstand; you can take them before breakfast if you wish."

"All right," said Legolas dully. "Good night, my lord."

"Get some rest," reiterated Elrond, and he left.

Legolas sat in that room after he departed, trying to stop himself from crying as he acutely felt how alone he was. Well, he supposed he wasn't completely alone – his hands flew to his stomach and he cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was kill the last little bit of Aragorn that he held claim to. He would surely die alongside the child if he took those herbs, but what else could he do?

'_I could tell Aragorn,'_ he reminded himself, but he knew that none of the plausible outcomes to that would be good. At best Aragorn would set him and the child up in a house in the city, where the two of them could dwell while the people of Gondor gossiped about the king's lover and their illegitimate offspring. At worst Aragorn would reject them both wholly, either accusing Legolas of getting pregnant on purpose to ensnare him or claiming that he didn't believe that it was his child just like Elrond had done. Legolas couldn't bear either of those possibilities, or any of the ones that lay in between them.

Going to Mirkwood wasn't an option either. It would destroy his father to see him in this condition, abandoned by the one who did it to him. Thranduil would go on an obsessive quest to find out who did this to his son, questioning everyone who was around him at the time of conception until he discovered the truth. Then he would throw his troops into an ill-fated attack on Gondor so soon after the orcs had caused their devastation. Instead of being the one to defend his kingdom, Legolas would become the cause of his people's final destruction if he returned to his father's cavern palace pregnant and alone.

'_There has to be some way for me to save this child without destroying everyone's lives!' _thought Legolas desperately. Then a workable, terrible solution came to mind: he could give the child to Aragorn and Arwen and leave it up to the Man whether or not he told his wife that he was the baby's sire. Legolas had no doubt that he would do so, and the elf knew that would have to leave Gondor when it happened; Arwen wouldn't and shouldn't have to endure his presence in the city when the truth came to light and he wouldn't be able to stand watching her raise his child as her own anyway. The important thing, though, was that the baby would be safe. Even if Arwen hated him forever she wouldn't outright reject Aragorn's child; in time she might even forgive it for having him as a father…

That last thought bounced through Legolas' mind and he felt his despair give way to a related but much different emotion. _'Wait a minute,' _he thought incredulously. _'Wait just one damn minute. Forgive this child for having me as its father? How is that my baby's fault? It didn't ask to be conceived into this mess. Come to think of it, I wasn't the only one involved in its creation either!'_

What exactly had he done wrong that made him so willingly accept all of the blame for the pain that this would cause? It had been _Aragorn_ who'd made the first move to rekindle their relationship. _Aragorn_ was the one who hadn't told Arwen that he didn't love her, thus not giving her a reason to depart. _Aragorn _had been the one who convinced him to stay on the night that they conceived the child and then had left him only hours later for someone that he didn't even love. And _Arwen_ was the one who didn't take the hint when Aragorn tried to return her infernal necklace that he didn't love her in the way that she loved him. Finally, it was _Elrond_ who observed the situation getting more and more tangled and elected to keep his mouth shut. Now Legolas was willing to accept his fair share of the responsibility, but this was too much. Here he was thinking about ways to keep all of these people unaffected by this turn of events while he had to worry about where he was going to go and putting up with someone who'd known him since he was a baby himself treating him like an errant lover who'd gotten pregnant on purpose.

Legolas looked up and caught his reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall. What he saw made him furious: he had the eyes of someone who was about to be run over by a mumakil and the face to match. Worst of all, his hair was loose around his shoulders; it made him look like a kept person, someone tamed by devastation and the degrading hope that his relationship with Aragorn wasn't over. Why else was he staying in a place where his love was in a bedchamber just a few corridors away having sex with another person? Legolas was disgusted with himself as he realized that he hadn't stayed because of the funeral procession or out of concern for Aragorn's well being; he stayed because he was waiting for the day when Aragorn would approach him once more, the day that he could become the king's lover on the side. Why hadn't he been acting like he deserved better than that? Where was his self-respect?

"I am going to reclaim my pride right now!" Legolas declared aloud as he jumped up from the bed and grabbed his comb. This wasn't just for himself – it was also for _his _child. He would keep it and protect it from the scorn it would surely face in Gondor or even Mirkwood, not because it was Aragorn's child but because it was the child of Legolas and he loved it dearly.

Ignoring the stings in his scalp as he relentlessly ran the comb through the snarls, Legolas reworked his plan to leave. The revised one was going to work even better than the original too because he had more motivation to make sure that it did. More preparation would be involved, though, if he was going to be able to protect them both even after they left Minas Tirith; but for the first time in weeks Legolas felt confident, grim as it was. His burning love for Aragorn, while not gone, was no longer his driving purpose; this child was, and it was giving him the strength he needed to move ahead.

To be continued…


	6. Go ahead and water my lawn

_A/N: The title of this chapter comes from the song "My Give a Damn's Busted" by Jo Dee Messina. Here are the relevant verses and chorus:_

_Well you filled up my head,  
With so many lies.  
Twisted my heart  
Til something snapped inside.  
I'd like to give it one more try  
but my give a damn's busted._

_You can crawl back home  
say you were wrong,  
stand out in the yard  
cry all night long.  
Well go ahead and water my lawn.  
My give a damn's busted._

_(chorus)_

_I really wanna care,  
I wanna feel somethin'  
Let me dig a little deeper…  
Nope…  
Sorry…  
Nothin'_

For the rest of the night straight into the wee hours of the morning Elrond laid in his bed, trying to will himself to sleep. Yet nothing that he did, even closing his eyes – one of the few times in his life he acknowledged his Mannish side since he chose to be a member of the Eldar race – the rest that he sought nonetheless remained elusive. No matter how hard he tried he could not help but obsess what had become of the lives of three people that he held dear in his heart. His beloved daughter Arwen, forever sundered from her people, lived in naïve bliss unaware that the world she'd chosen could implode at any moment. His foster son Aragorn, whom Elrond couldn't have loved any more had the Man been his child by flesh and blood, teetered precariously between his obligations to his new wife and the Gondorian people and the yearnings of his heart for his true love. Finally there was Legolas – Elbereth, Elrond had been there when the young elf was born and had always considered him to be a part of the family – who loved Aragorn as much as Aragorn loved him and was about two months pregnant, a fact that the new king was ignorant to for the time being.

Elrond buried his face into his pillow to muffle his groan. How many events were there in his life that he looked back on and dreamed of the million different ways he would handle them if given another chance? All of his daydreams since the moment he'd felt the chilliness in Arwen's hands were about when he first realized that Aragorn was drawn to his daughter. The elf lord could hear himself council the Man not to jump into another relationship so hastily after losing his first love. He could see himself riding to Mirkwood to encourage Legolas to not give up the one he cherished because of foolish unselfishness. That way Arwen would have had no reason to sacrifice her immortality and Aragorn and Legolas could've married instead and now be free to enjoy the fact that they would be having their first child.

Alas, Elrond did not have the power to go back in time to create this ideal present and could only wish that things worked out as best they could. Knowing that Legolas would return to Mirkwood as soon as possible in light of the extent of the realm's attack and the futility of staying in Gondor, the elf lord had been hoping that time and the reality of the situation would dull Aragorn's feelings for the prince. One day the Man might even discover that he'd come to love Arwen in a way that displaced the out-of-bounds elf from his lofty position in his heart. Perhaps Legolas would even find a new love, one much better suited for him (or at least unattached to anyone else). Then what Legolas and Aragorn had shared would become nothing but a memory to both of them, something to laugh and nostalgically reminisce about when they were able to be just friends again. The perfect future, under these awful circumstances, would happen exactly like that.

The world wasn't perfect, however, and the already delicate situation had gotten infinitely more complicated in the wake of Legolas' pregnancy. Elrond could not see Aragorn letting his memory fade if he ever found out that he was going to have a child. In fact, the king _couldn't_, for that child would have a claim to the throne of Gondor. The injustice of having to give up the one he loved would color his judgment and Aragorn would insist on not denying his child the opportunities that came with being the prince or princess of Gondor. Scandal would ensue and Arwen, shamed but selfless, would leave so that her husband could be with Legolas; and her grief and loneliness would be unending.

Thankfully, Legolas seemed to have decided not to inform Aragorn of his current plight. Elrond's heart went out to him, for the elf lord understood that there was now no place that the prince could go to let the love he had for Aragorn to diminish. Not only would he always have a reminder of it every time he looked at the child, but also there would be no place that he could go and still keep the identity of its sire a secret. Legolas might never willingly tell, but prying minds would unravel the mystery soon enough. Aragorn would figure it out instantly if he stayed in Minas Tirith or any other part of Gondor. Were he to return to Mirkwood, the protective Thranduil would incessantly attempt to persuade, argue, or guilt the truth out of his son. When he failed at that, the elven king, being no fool, would begin questioning all of the people who'd been around Legolas at the time of the conception – starting with the young elf's best friend, Aragorn. The secret wouldn't even be safe if Legolas sought refuge in Rivendell or obtained permission to retreat into a dwarvish cave with Gimli; the twins and the dwarf lord would be too concerned about their pregnant friend and curious about the mysterious lover who'd either died or abandoned him. While they would probably respect Legolas' wishes not to tell his father, they wouldn't understand why it would be so important to keep the truth of his condition from Aragorn as well. Elrond cringed as he imagined his sons or Gimli confiding to Aragorn about what had happened to their poor friend and asking for his insight. Try as he might, Elrond couldn't see how the unfortunate trio could help but move to a place emotionally that none of them would like being in if the child was allowed to be born.

How he wished that the bundle of trouble growing in Legolas' stomach had never existed! Elrond felt like a monster just thinking about the infant that way, let alone entertaining the thought of it being gone; after all, it _was_ his first grandchild. If fate had been kinder he might have been able to spend the last few years that he remained on that side of the Great Sea doting upon it, spoiling it rotten and then chuckling in that way that grandparents do as he then sent it back to its parents. That was not to be, though, and the baby's presence would only serve to hinder Legolas and Aragorn's ability to move on with their lives. Their future happiness would be jeopardized, as well as Arwen's.

Elrond squeezed his eyes closed tighter as he tried to banish the images of a little boy – would he be broad and grave like Aragorn or lean and graceful like Legolas? – or little girl – as fair and proper as any princess of Men or the tomboy that two such experienced warriors couldn't help but raising? – and accept the truth of the matter. The fragrance of the herbs that he'd set so carefully on the table by his head invaded his nose and his heart hardened in response. _'It would be best,'_ he told himself sagely, _'if Legolas heeded my advice and put an end to this once and for all.'_

But if that were true then why couldn't he find sleep at last? _'Perhaps because Legolas came to you for help and advice,'_ a treacherous voice in his head (which always, for some reason, sounded either like his wife Celebrian or long-dead brother Elros) suggested, _'and all you did was pressure him to end his pregnancy.'_

'_I did no such thing,'_ Elrond argued back to himself. _'He understood that his options are limited and I told him of an alternative that may not have entered his mind. There was no _pressure_; why, I even told him to rest before making his decision.'_

'_Yes, I must admit that that's true,' _conceded the voice, though Elrond knew better than to think that he'd won the debate so quickly. _'Of course, that was only _after_ you made it painfully clear that you believe that it would be best for him to terminate the child_

'_He was scared and having trouble thinking of all of his possibilities except to go to Aragorn of his father,' _thought Elrond defensively. _'I was simply letting him know that I would help him with whatever he decided to do.'_

The voice gave a humorless chuckle. _'But did you offer your assistance in figuring out what to say to Aragorn or to write to Thranduil?'_ it questioned triumphantly because it already knew the answer. _'Of course you didn't; but you _were_ very quick to tell him that you'd leave the necessary herbs for termination out for him and advised that he take them as soon as possible.'_

'_Ending the pregnancy will become more difficult each day he knows he's carrying it,' _countered Elrond. _'If he's chooses this option it will be best for him if he take them as soon as possible.'_

The voice was hardly appeased. _'And then it wouldn't be possible for him to change his mind later when the shock wore off and he was thinking more rationally,'_ it taunted. _'It was quite crafty of you to manipulate Legolas so at his most vulnerable.'_

'_It wasn't like that,' _the elf lord insisted. _'I'm trying to do what's best for Legolas as well as for everyone else. I cherish him as an uncle would his most beloved nephew, as I have since he was born.'_

'_Oh, I understand: you care about him so much that you practically accuse him of sleeping around during his relationship with Aragorn.'_

'_I didn't mean it to come out like that!' _protested Elrond fiercely, his skin getting hot with what he pretended was solely anger. _'It was more of a desperate wish for a better situation than a statement of what I actually believe. It _would_ be better if someone else was that child's sire. I only want what's best for everyone.'_

'_Whatever helps you sleep at night,' _sighed the voice sarcastically. _'Oh, wait – you _can't_ sleep at night, or any other time it seems. But perhaps you're right and your baseless accusations of infidelity and promiscuity aren't the reasons behind it. I would guess that your lack of sleep has more to do with how you feel about implying that Legolas had contrived to get pregnant so that he could ensnare Aragorn.'_

'_I didn't say that!' _The elf was starting to feel like an elfling again, one who was caught doing something naughty by a wise adult. _'I would never say something so horrible about Legolas, let alone believe it.'_

The one person that Elrond couldn't deceive was himself. _'Perhaps not consciously,' _the voice informed him, _'but in the back of your mind where you shut away your darkest thoughts you did – and still do – believe it. Ever since Arwen relieved to you that she was now mortal you've seen Legolas as a potential threat to her happiness. Why did you have that messenger for King Theoden keep your presence a secret when you had him call Aragorn to the king's tent the night you gave him the sword? Because you knew that Legolas would accompany him if they knew that you were there and you feared that if he were present when Aragorn found out about Arwen's condition Aragorn would have chosen differently.'_

'_No,' _Elrond protested yet again. _'It's just – why make him go through the pain of having someone witness him losing the person he loved to another?'_

'_Is that why you didn't go to comfort him later on when you heard his sobs coming from Aragorn's tent?' _the voice wondered. _'Oh, but whatever excuses you may come up with for that shameful little incident, they would still not explain away why you accused him of planning to disrupt the wedding even though you knew that all he was doing was sacrificing his own happiness to increase Arwen's bliss even more. Now a little part of you thinks that he tricked Aragorn into impregnating him even though it will most likely Legolas' life that is going to be ruined if the entire truth should ever come to light.'_

Elrond was out of responses and excuses; he could only lie there and face the worst parts of himself. _'For all the wisdom your mind has after all these long years your heart is as cold and your feelings as fickle as any spoiled elfling,'_ observed the voice nastily, truthfully. _'How else could someone go in your eyes from being as dear as a beloved, cherished nephew to as vile and wretched as a home wrecking harlot so easily?'_

The sound of the door creaking open put an end to the lord's internal debate-turned conscience scolding. When he heard no footsteps either entering the room or walking away, Elrond cracked his eyes open slightly. It was Legolas, walking quietly across the bedchamber toward the bed – or rather the table standing beside the bed where the herbs continued to sit. "Legolas," he whispered hoarsely in way of greeting.

"Lord Elrond," returned the elf prince, his voice cold. Legolas didn't look at him as he picked up something, but Elrond strained his eyes enough to confirm that the herbs were now in his hand.

There was something different about Legolas, though not so different that it seemed out-of-place or jarring. Elrond tried to figure it out but such a level of comprehension was too much for his troubled and weary mind to process. Ceasing those efforts, he moved his head enough so that he could see the blonde elf holding the herbs away from his body as he examined them cautiously. As guilty as he might be feeling, the lord couldn't let him change his mind when he was so close to taking them. "For what it may be worth I believe that you're doing the right thing," he offered encouragingly. "For yourself as well as for everyone else."

Legolas' grip on the herbs tightened ever so slightly as he looked over at him. Elrond internally shivered when he saw that there was even less warmth in his expression than there was in his tone. "I thank you for you discretion last night and ask that you continue to keep this situation a secret," said Legolas. He snorted a little. "Though I doubt that you'd tell anyone even if I didn't ask you not to. But do not give me words of advice or affirmation because, quite frankly, I don't particularly care what you think."

Without another word he spun around and departed as quickly as he could, never to speak to Elrond in a personal, familial way again. Once he was able to see beyond his anger it would pain Legolas that their affectionate relationship had ended so abruptly without any reconciliation and it would always cause some degree of sadness and regret for the rest of his life whenever he thought about it (which would become less often as the years passed by and other things came to occupy his mind). He would also accept it as a necessary loss to protect his child. After the child was born Legolas would even come to understand why Elrond had been so quick to choose Arwen's happiness over his, though he would never forgive the callous way that the elf lord went about it. The elf lord, as far as he was concerned, was forever emotionally sundered from him.

Elrond would never know that he disposed of the herbs as soon as he could and then rushed to the nearest source of water to wash off any of their residue that might harm the baby in any way.

Elrond would remain in Middle-earth for a few more years, instructing his sons of the nuances of ruling over Rivendell while patiently waiting for Bilbo to get older than the Old Took at the time of his death so that the aged hobbit would be content to leave those shores with that one last victory. During that time Arwen would give birth to two of her three children and the lord would indeed dote upon them, smiling as a grandfather does when his children complain that he spoiled them rotten before sending them home. He would love them and cherish the time they spent together, but he would dread it too because it would be in their presences that the specter of the grandchild that he could have had would haunt him most acutely. The ghost of a little boy about Eldarion's age would stand beside them as he tried to explain the art of healing to his eldest grandchild. The image of a little girl would dance along side Silmariën as his granddaughter showed him her latest steps. The way the apparition looked would change each time he saw it – varying between Aragorn's darker, Mannish looks and Legolas' golden elvish beauty – but he always knew who it was and why it was always there.

And sleep would continue to elude Elrond until a grey ship delivered him at last to the peaceful shores of Valinor, where all the pain of Middle-earth became nothing more than a memory.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"The food here's good," said Merry awkwardly as he piled more bread on his plate. "Very yummy and…stuff."

Eomer, who found himself sitting between Merry and the hobbit's younger cousin Pippin at the breakfast table, managed to hold back his sigh though he wasn't able to stop his eyes from rolling. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get through the funeral procession and ceremony if everyone was going to treat him as carefully as they were. "Don't feel that you need to subdue yourselves on my account," he told Merry while giving Pippin a glance so that the little hobbit knew that the request applied to him too. "I and many others were deeply grieved to lose my uncle but he died well and is at peace. We should be celebrating his life, for it was an honorable one indeed. One way to do that is to remember that he loved what he knew about your hobbit culture; and how you, Meriadoc, were like a son to him for the little while that you were with him. He would want to you tobehave as you always have. Why, if he were here right now he'd be asking how such small beings could eat so much."

Merry looked down at his place – or rather the mounds of food that were piled on his plate since the dish itself was no longer visible from any side save the bottom. "Oh, this isn't a lot," he said. "At least not when you take into account how many meals we'll be missing until the funeral's over."

"But we'll be missing none," protested Eomer in confusion as he eyes the even bigger heap in front of Pippin. "I've already told you that we'll be making regular stops for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as there will be very little to gain by skipping them."

"Yes, but what about the others?" asked Pippin rhetorically, more to make a point than to get an answer out of Rohan's king. "We hobbits also have second breakfast, elevensies, afternoon tea, and supper in addition to the meals that the Big Folk eat. We're going to need at least two more helpings to make up for the mealtimes that we're going to miss between breakfast and lunch today!"

Eomer turned slightly green. "That's…only _one _helping?"

"The next few days are going to be lean ones," nodded Merry, too busy digging in to notice Eomer's strange color. "But thankfully being on the Quest for so long has prepared us well to deal with such meager rations."

"Eventually," spoke up a new voice. "I seem to recall, however, a lot of complaints – dare I call it whining? – until you two got to the point where you could be content with only giving us sullen looks. Even after that you would groan most pitifully whenever your stomachs growled."

The happy looks on the two hobbits' faces were priceless when they simultaneously raised their heads to see Legolas standing there, miraculously – it seemed – restored to as he was when they'd first met him: standing tall and proud, practically glowing with determination, and his hair tied once more back into warrior's braids. "Legolas!" exclaimed Pippin, excited in his relief. "You're all fixed!"

"Merry and Pippin had just finished telling me about how you were wearing your hair loose now," Eomer told the elf. He squinted, cocking his head to one side and then to the other. "I must confess that I can't really imagine what that would look like on you."

"Don't bother trying to," replied Legolas dryly, feeling strangely energized. The first part of his plan had been successful and now Elrond – the only other person who knew about his pregnancy – believed the baby to be no more. With his child safe for the time being, he felt confident enough to banter. "I really didn't like it like that."

"Well don't just stand there talking about your hair," scolded Merry happily. "Sit down with us and have –"

"Legolas!"

The queen of Gondor had entered the room, followed closely by her husband, and had almost passed out with relief when she saw her friend standing there looking as if he were back to normal. "You're awake," she rejoiced, hugging him enthusiastically. She was further reassured when he returned the embrace almost in the way that he used to instead of with those stiff arms he'd had as of late. "We've been so worried –"

"Arwen," Aragorn broke in. "Perhaps Legolas would feel more comfortable if you didn't mention such things in front of other people."

"It's all right, Aragorn; please don't feel like you need to protect me," said Legolas blithely, though Aragorn didn't miss the slight edge in the elf's voice. "I know that I haven't been acting like myself lately and I'm sorry for any concern that my behavior has caused. Some – painful events have happened, but I know now that I cannot blame myself for the things I had no control over. Last night I decided that I'm going to focus on the people who need me now and not wallow anymore in the past."

Arwen clapped her hands in delight, unaware of the growing look of unease in her husband's eyes. "That's wonderful!" she grinned. "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see you feeling better. You had me worried there for awhile."

"Don't think on it anymore, Arwen," Legolas told her, glad that having a new focal point in his life made to possible for him to bear looking at her again. "I'm going to be fine."

"That depends," she noted with maternal admonishment. "Have you eaten yet? You need to get some food; you've only been picking at your plate for weeks!"

"He just got here," supplied Pippin before Legolas could answer. "Merry was just inviting him to sit down and eat when you came in."

"Well, I'll definitely take the food," smiled Legolas, thinking about the life that was growing within him as he selected a fine looking apple and bit into it. "However, I'll pass on the sitting part. I don't feel like staying in one place right now."

Aragorn's eyes grew large with realization. "Legolas, may I please speak to you in private?" he asked.

Without bothering to wait for a response, he grabbed the elf's arm and pulled him into the corridor outside. "What are you doing?" demanded Aragorn when they were far enough away from the meal hall not to be overheard.

"I think I should be asking you that question," replied Legolas irritably.

"You're refusing to sit down?" pressed Aragorn, unfazed by his hostility.

"Is that all?" demanded Legolas. "Well, I think that you should be able to tolerate me standing on my last day here; I've certainly been lazing around long enough."

He turned to leave but Aragorn tightened his hold on his arm with one hand while moving the other around him to the small of Legolas' back. Frowning at what he felt there, he lifted the elf's tunic. "I'm referring to this," the Man announced as he whipped out the knife that had been tucked into the waistband of Legolas' leggings.

Only two people knew that Legolas carried a knife at the small of his back: his father Thranduil, and Aragorn. The elven king had been the one who'd given it to him, along with the instructions to keep it hidden away until he had no other options to defend himself. Aragorn had discovered it the night that they'd first made love and had been duly impressed that the prince had managed to keep it a secret from even Gandalf for so long. He'd also laughed when Legolas had shared that its location made sitting down extra difficult and that's why he avoided doing so whenever possible.

"That is supposed to be a secret," hissed Legolas, snatching the knife and putting it back where it was supposed to be. "I would appreciate it if you didn't do that again. You have no right to take my weapons or to lift up any of my clothing."

"Why are you carrying that again?" asked a determined Aragorn. "You – you seemed to be giving yourself over to a life of peace these last six weeks, even while your grief was evident. Now that grief appears to have subsided and you look like you're ready for another war. I'm worried about you."

"If I hear that phrase one more time I'll make sure that it'll be the last," warned Legolas darkly. "I don't want anyone to be worried about me, especially you. You have a wife now, Aragorn; go be worried about her."

"Legolas, stop," said Aragorn forcefully. "I know why you're doing this – you're angry at me. I deserve every bit of it, but please know that you're the only one that I'm in love with."

"And that doesn't do anyone any good," replied Legolas. "That's why I have to leave, Aragorn; and I won't be coming back."

Aragorn swallowed hard. "Please," he begged. "I know that things can never be as they once were but I can't lose you wholly. There had to be some way –"

"For us to be together?" interrupted Legolas with raised eyebrows. "Do you wish to break your marriage vows so soon and take me on as a lover on the side? The noblewomen of Gondor might put up with their husbands' dalliances but you know that Arwen wouldn't, nor should she have to. And even if she would _I _could never have that kind of relationship with you, no matter how much I love you."

"Mela…"

"Don't call me that anymore," ordered Legolas. "You made your choice and it wasn't me. At least have the integrity to live with the future that you've selected. Now, if there's nothing else, I'm going to get some food – I'm famished."

Without a wistful smile or lingering look Legolas turned around and went back to the meal hall, leaving a stunned and shaken Aragorn in his wake. This time it would be the Man who would have to take the time to compose himself before he was able to face a room full of people again.

To be continued…


	7. Wrong conclusions

_A/N: In theThe Return of the King book Gimli and Legolas didn't go to the Glittering Caves together until after King Theoden's funeral. In this story there's no time for that so I've changed it so that they visited there on the way back to Edoras after picking up Merry and Pippin from Isengard._

The funeral procession proceeded to Rohan, meeting almost no unscheduled hindrance on the way. Its participants had exited the gates of Minas Tirith as the city's people looked on and wept for the fallen hero of the War. King Théoden's body was then born across Pelennor Fields, pausing just long enough at a convenient place on the way to the road that led to Rohan for the Rohirrim to sing about the deeds of the king who'd died there. One of Rohan's chief commanders, Elfhelm, had taken Eomer aside there and suggested that it might be more proper to take the time to go to the actual place where Theoden met his doom to pay these respects. Eomer staunchly refused, citing the fact that the memory of everything that happened there was still to fresh on Eowyn and Merry's minds for them to endure returning to that horrible place.

So they left the sight of the White City and continued on until they were completely out of the realm of Gondor. Along the way the diverse participants in the processional drifted out of their assigned spots in the line and converged into smaller groups. Eomer rode at the head, as was expected, with Elfhelm and his other high commander, Gamling, at his side. Behind them rode the hobbits, who traveled alongside Eowyn and Faramir. This was more because of their similar situations than conscious choice: Eowyn and Merry's official loyalties laid with the king of Rohan while Faramir and Pippin were in the service of the new King Elessar. Positioning themselves between the two parties was the only fair compromise.

Following them were Aragorn, Gandalf, and all but one of the elves present there. The wise old wizard was curious about the Man's unusually silent demeanor but was too occupied with speaking with Galadriel and Celeborn to be very troubled by it; his time was over and Aragorn needed to be able to handle whatever was bothering him on his own. Elrond half-listened to the discourse between his in-laws and Gandalf, but made sure to keep an eye on his foster son's mood and whether or not Arwen or the twins saw it. Thankfully, those three were too busy peeking behind them and whispering to notice the sullen air that hung around the king.

What was distracting them wasn't the carriage directly following them, bearing the coffin of King Theoden, nor the troops from Gondor and Rohan that marched after it. It was on the one horse that remained out of any group, trotting near the coffin. Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen didn't understand why its two riders – Legolas and Gimli – stayed away; they hadn't invited Legolas to travel with them but that had never been an issue before. Knowing that Gimli held Galadriel in such high regard, the three couldn't help but think that they were staying away due to a decision made by the blonde elf. Legolas had been pulling away from them lately and anything that threatened to break the strong bonds that existed between the four of them had to a something terrible indeed. Unfortunately, neither the twins nor Arwen could decide on what they should do it remedy it.

Unaware of – or perhaps not really caring about – the speculation taking place between the children of Elrond, Legolas kept a steady hold on Arod to make sure that the steed stayed a respectful distance from the carriage. "Laddie," said a voice behind him.

Legolas didn't answer. "Laddie," Gimli tried again, louder this time. The elf, having a pretty good idea about what was coming next, reluctantly turned around. "Why don't we ride ahead and join Aragorn's party? That way you can talk to that Man and all of those crazy elves and I'll get the chance to speak with the fairest Galadriel."

"You have the tongue of a poet, Gimli," said Legolas. "I – I don't feel like traveling in their company right now."

"Well, what about joining the young hobbits?" pressed Gimli. "Or the troops or _anyone_ else? Here the only people I have to talk to are a dead Man, a horse, and an elf that's not much more verbose than the first two. I'm feeling a little lonely back here."

"I'm sorry, my friend," replied Legolas in an oddly detached voice, as if he were merely reciting the words instead of actually meaning them. Yet they didn't seem insincere; if Gimli was asked about it he would have said that it sound as if the elf was trying to make his way through a haze that no one else could see. It was an unusual state for the normally focused Legolas to be in and the dwarf found it very disconcerting.

"Don't be sorry," said Gimli. "Just talk to me. I miss our merry debates."

The elf missed them too; the fact that soon all of them would come to an end made him all the more melancholy. "I'm not much of a riding companion these days," he admitted. "I don't wish to keep you from whatever time you have left to spend with Galadriel. Maybe Aragorn, Gandalf, or one of the twins would allow you onto their horses."

"Blast it, Legolas!" scolded Gimli, furious and exasperated. "Don't think that I'm going to abandon you to attend to my own fancies. I care that you're not very talkative, but not because I long to hear someone else's voice. For the past few weeks you haven't said one thing to me that I haven't had to force out of your mouth and everything I managed to wrench out was so – _defeated_ and despairing. That's not you, laddie! I'm…well, I'm…"

Legolas turned his head to look at his quizzically. "I'm…worried about – well, about you," the dwarf mumbled in a rush. When the prince raised his eyebrows at him Gimli flushed and hastened to continue. "Now don't let that go to your head, and definitely don't let it get around to the others. By Aüle, I'd never hear the end of it!"

"I would never do anything like that," promised Legolas, his amusement colored by a warmer emotion. "I'm touched by your concern, friend Gimli. Don't worry; your secret's safe with me."

"And yours would be with me as well." Gimli gave him a hard look and the elf's heart seized up in his chest. How much could he have guessed? Legolas was torn between utter dread and a sense of relief at being able to unburden himself to a friendly set of ears. "Elladan and Elrohir told us how guilty you felt when they told you about what happened in Mirkwood while you were away. You've been letting it eat away at you since the coronation."

Thank Elbereth his true secret remained undetected! As wonderful as it might feel to spill his soul, the fewer people who knew about the baby the easier it would be to protect it. "This is my burden," Legolas told him.

"But it's not one that you need to suffer with alone," protested Gimli. "Do you think that I won't be able to understand what you're going through?"

"I think," answered Legolas cautiously, "that no one can really –"

"Stop right there; not another word," Gimli ordered firmly as his eyes flashed. "You aren't the only one who was separated from his people when they needed him most. Think about it, laddie: if Mirkwood was attacked, what are the chances that the Lonely Mountain remained unscathed? Already I've heard rumors about attacks on the dwarves and Dale men. Some say that – that King Dain has fallen and I can't help believing it to be true. Death and destruction will most likely greet me at home upon my return and that gives me as much pain as you. Can't we then help each other, and allow the people we love to help us as well, though this difficult time instead of isolating ourselves even more?"

_The people we love_. Elbereth, Legolas didn't think he could take much more of this. It was taking all of his restraint not to spill his secrets to Gimli right then and there; the mention of those loved ones that were supposed to relieve their burdens almost shattered his resolve. The dwarf had become very dear to him – his best friend really, especially after the abrupt ending of his relationship with Aragorn – and it was easy to imagine him offering the support that the elf so desperately wanted. He could feel a comforting hand on his shoulder as he confided how he was cast aside by the Man. Unlike the fickle Lord Elrond, Gimli wouldn't judge him for having a relationship with Aragorn nor make subtle remarks about his intentions or fidelity. What's more, Gimli might even be happy about the baby; they could spend the rest of the journey to Rohan talking about what its gender might be and possible names. He could see the dwarf acting as giddy as any real grandparent would be, unlike the child's _actual_ grandsire who acted as if its existence was the more horrendous thing in the world.

Through all of those wonderful fantasies, Legolas still held his tongue. _'Don't you dare!' _he ordered himself. _'Your plan depends on absolute secrecy to work; your _baby_ needs you to stay strong. Gimli would mean well, but he could never keep something like this to himself. The last thing you need is for him to fly into a protective fury. Even if he decided that Aragorn was entirely in the wrong Gimli would still let him know about the pregnancy, if only to yell at him for leaving me.'_

What Legolas needed was a good distraction. Fortunately he didn't need to make anything up; there was something that he needed to speak to the dwarf about. "Gimli, may I ask you something?" he inquired.

"Oh no you don't," countered Gimli. "I'm not about to let you change the subject. This will only continue to fester inside of you if you keep trying to suppress it. No fake excuses or light conversation – we're going to talk about –"

"I'm not trying to change the subject," interrupted Legolas, keeping his voice bright and calm. "What I have to say concerns all that we've been talking about – going home and other such things; in a way, at any rate. We made a bargain, my friend, as we rode together to Isengard."

"Aye, I remember," recalled Gimli with a wry smile. "You would visit the splendor of the Glittering Caves in return for getting to drag me into that accursed, tree-invested forest. A fortunate agreement for you, indeed! You would have missed seeing those breathtaking caverns without it."

"Yes, I must admit that you were right in that respect," conceded the elf. "And now is my opportunity to prove you wrong. I upheld my end of the bargain on the way back to Edoras after leaving Isengard; and since we are traveling to Isengard once more after the funeral I think then will be an ideal time for you to accompany me in exploring Fangorn Forest."

Gimli cringed and shifted uncomfortably. "Legolas…"

"You're not trying to get out of our agreement, are you?" asked Legolas, teasingly suspicious.

"No," replied Gimli defensively. "It's just that I don't think it would be a good idea for you to use our bargain to try to escape your problems. They'll be waiting for you when you leave."

"I'm not doing anything of the sort," the prince retorted. "I – I – you said it yourself, Gimli: our kingdoms will need us for a long time after we return" – and what a bitter pill it was that he could never go back to Mirkwood! – "and I cannot see when there will be a time when we could go if we don't do it right away. Please, Gimli."

Gimli looked unhappy but Legolas suspected that it had more to do with thinking about his imminent return to that mysterious forest than worrying about the elf or delaying his return to his people. "Well then," the dwarf said reluctantly. "Let it not be said that Gimli the dwarf broke his word to a friend. But mark my words, Legolas: you'd best be a better companion than you have been since the war ended. I don't want be stuck out in Fangorn with no one but trees to talk to."

"That wouldn't be a good thing," agreed Legolas with a small smile. "You always manage to insult them when you speak in their presence."

"Trees with thin skin," grumbled Gimli. "Who ever heard of anything more ridiculous than that?"

It was surprising how accustomed Legolas had come to hearing the dwarf grouse. He was glad that he wouldn't have to leave that strange source of comfort behind him just yet. Out of all of his traveling companions (save Aragorn, who was in a different category than the rest of them), Gimli was the one that Legolas was going to have the most trouble saying goodbye to. The pain of that was made all the worse by the fact that when they finally parted ways he couldn't see a time when he would be reunited that dear dwarf again. The trip into Fangorn would give them one last adventure together; a pleasant memory for when the loneliness set in. Legolas would have been tempted to go through with it even if it wasn't also a vital part of his plan.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Arwen frowned anxiously as Legolas returned her waves for him to join their party with a bow and a shake of his head. "I don't understand," she fretted to her husband, father, and brothers. "He's never been this inconsolable before. What could be wrong with him?"

"He will be fine, my daughter," Elrond tried to comfort her. He followed her gaze to look at Legolas and found that he was unable to hold the younger elf's eyes for too long without his guilt threatening to overwhelm him. "He's just worried about his father and Mirkwood –"

"Nonsense," scoffed Elrohir with a sudden fierceness. "I know Legolas better than the lot of you, except for perhaps Aragorn, and I say that this is something terrible. If he was just worried about what was going on at home he would have been crawling the walls of the city, not sleeping later and later and walking around as if he were sleepwalking."

"I agree with Elrohir," concurred Elladan. "Not with all that rubbish about him knowing Legolas best; with the rest of it. It's as if Legolas has lost something precious to him. You know," he added thoughtfully. "He's actually reminding me of how Ada behaved right after Nana took the ship to Valinor. Was he – did he – do you think that it's possible that he fell in love with someone?"

Arwen's nostrils flared protectively. "And that person left him?" she asked angrily. She looked over at her husband, who wasn't meeting her gaze. "Do you know who it is, Aragorn? Tell me and I'll let that unfaithful scoundrel have it!"

"I – uh – I – it's not really my place to say," coughed Aragorn. "Things happened that were beyond their control –"

"You're not defending the person that broke Legolas' heart, are you?" Arwen demanded incredulously. "Beyond all control – what kind of excuse is that? I swear, my husband, there should be a law against people being unfaithful to those they claim to love. Since I came to Gondor I've encountered so many noblemen who think it's just fine to have a wife and a lover. Hrumph! They'll parade around with those lovers, being affectionate in public and their wives are expected to pretend not to notice. And what do you think would happen if either the wife or lover was ever with someone else? Every nobleman would demand their heads, as if it's okay that they cheat and not if the wives and lovers do! If that's the type of person who Legolas fell for, he's better off without him; anyone who can't give Legolas all of what he is doesn't deserve him."

Aragorn's cheeks burned. "That's not what happened –"

"Peace, Aragorn," admonished Elrond tensely. "And you should keep calm too, Arwen. Don't make any assumptions; perhaps other circumstances are keeping Legolas and this person apart – circumstances far nobler than fickle affections."

Taking this into consideration for a moment, Arwen furrowed her brow. "Yes – yes, you're right. Oh, it makes perfect sense now! I know who he loves," she declared, not noticing the way that her father swallowed or Aragorn tensing up. "This depression didn't really take hold of him until after the wedding. He spent the next six weeks in a funk, so drained of energy that he couldn't find the strength to braid his hair. When did that all change? When did he snap out of it and do up his hair again? _The morning that the processional began_. Think about it: King Eomer left soon after the wedding and returned the night before Legolas' miraculous transformation. I believe that Legolas is in love with King Eomer and was grieved by their separation; and now more so because they're going to be separated again by their obligations do their respective kingdoms."

Aragorn tightened his hold on the reins so much that his horse threw its head back in protest. "I don't think that's true at all," he asserted. While he understood that there would be dire consequences if anyone found out about his relationship with Legolas the Man couldn't stand the idea of people thinking that the one true love of his life was in love with someone else. "The fact that he braided his hair is proof of nothing. Legolas knew that we were setting out and probably wanted to look princely in order to properly represent Mirkwood at the funeral."

"But I saw them together," protested Arwen. _Together?_ Aragorn's skin got clammy. "As did you; they were speaking to each other at the reception before he came over to see us."

Why did she find it necessary to scare him like that? "Legolas was asking about the funeral," replied Aragorn, relieved that she didn't witness anything more serious and also annoyed that she was talking about things that she knew nothing about. "It's not as if they were whispering sweet nothings to each other."

"Are you sure that's _all _they were talking about?" pressed Arwen.

"Yes," was Aragorn's hard and abrupt reply.

Elrohir frowned as he processed what both of them had said. Legolas was most depressed right after the War ended…lost in his melancholy as he resigned himself to stay in the city until the funeral… "That's it," he murmured as the answer – so obvious, really, now that he thought about it – came to him at last. Glancing back at his poor friend the elf bowed his head sadly and closed his eyes.

"What?" asked Arwen fretfully.

"You were almost right, dear sister," said Elrohir while he blinked several times as if to hold back tears. "Legolas is in love with a king, but not the one that you guessed."

So someone had finally figured it out. Aragorn cleared his throat, half sick to his stomach at the thought of having his secret exposed so openly and half giddy at the prospect of no longer having to live a lie. "I can explain –"

"There's no need for that, Estel," Elrohir told him with a wave of his hand. "I know why the relationship had to be kept a secret and, being his friend, of course you helped. Though I do wish you would have said something to your own wife and brothers at the very least; we could have done more for him, or at least have been there to listen. Legolas shouldn't have to internalize the pain of having his lover die. An elf can die of grief for reasons less than that!"

"Come…come again?" asked Aragorn in a choked voice. He certainly wasn't _dead_, though he felt like it most of the time.

"Of course!" groaned Elladan, chagrined at his own stupidity. "Asking King Eomer about the details of the funeral almost immediately, insisting on staying to participate in the funeral procession even when everyone would have understood if he left – why, now that I think about it, the funeral was almost the only thing he's talked about since the day of the wedding and coronation. Now that it's happening the poor thing cannot bear to leave the coffin of his lover."

"And I had to insist that he take part in the wedding," whispered Arwen, deeply ashamed that she read her friend's misery so wrong. "It must have been so difficult for him so soon after the person he loved was killed."

Too mortified to care if the others realized that he was choking Aragorn croaked out, "You – you think that Legolas is in love with _King Theoden_?"

"You don't need to protect them anymore," said Elrohir compassionately. "You should know better than to think that we'd judge him for falling in love with a lesser Man! The only thing that's important now is figuring out how we can help him through this difficult time."

"Perhaps Estel didn't know anything about it," suggested Elladan as he read what he thought was confusion in his foster brother's face. "Legolas is very discreet about these sorts of things. Don't you remember: Estel couldn't even tell us who Legolas had that fling with that one summer and he was actually in Mirkwood at the time and relatively undistracted."

Aragorn wasn't sure if his face felt like it was burning because of embarrassment, indignation, or just plain anger. "That –"

" – is a very insightful theory, my sons," broke in Elrond, giving Aragorn a meaningful look. "Pray do not mention any of it to Legolas or anyone else – since they valued their privacy so much, let them keep it."

"All right," agreed Elladan reluctantly as his twin nodded. "But there still must be _something_ – I know!"

He turned his horse and sped off in Legolas' direction. "Greetings, Legolas, master dwarf," he said as he slowed his steed down to fall into pace next to Arod. "How are you feeling today, my friend?"

"Fine," answered Legolas, eyeing him suspiciously. They hadn't spoken to each other in days; what had compelled Elladan to inquire about his health now?

"That's good," said the dark-haired elf in a falsely casual tone. "Legolas, we – I – we – we were wondering if you could ride up to the front and ask King Eomer when our next stop will be."

"Why can't you do it?"

Elladan pretended to look awkward. "All right, the truth is that Estel wants Gimli to join us so that he can speak to him privately," he 'confessed.' "I told him that I would use sending you on that errand to distract you. Will you please do it so that he doesn't have reason to tease me later on about my cunning?"

"How can he speak to Gimli privately if all of you are going to be around?" demanded Legolas.

"Well, there's a reasonable –"

"Stop," requested Gimli in a weary tone. "It's best not to argue with the insane, laddie. I'll get on his horse, you talk to Eomer, and this can all be over with sooner rather than later."

From the short distance Aragorn, Arwen, Elrond, and Elrohir watched as Gimli clumsily climbed over onto Elladan's horse. Legolas then nodded at whatever the elf was saying before riding off toward the head of the processional. Elladan, now with Gimli in tow, headed back to his family. "What was that all about?" Aragorn wanted to know as the pair joined them.

"I thought that it might comfort Legolas to speak to someone who knew his lover well," answered Elladan.

"What?"

Arwen smiled compassionately at the baffled dwarf. "You must swear not to tell anyone, but Legolas is in love with King Theoden," she reported. "They couldn't share that with the rest of the world and now he's gone and Legolas is deeply grieved."

"I don't think that's so," said the perplexed dwarf. "I never saw any proof of that."

"Are you certain about that?" prodded Elrohir. "Didn't they ever touch or look at each other in a less-than-formal way?"

"Well, King Theoden did put his hand on Legolas arm when we thought that Aragorn was dead," said Gimli. "And Legolas did give him a rather intense look when Aragorn announced that the beacons of Minas Tirith were lit. Still, I would have known if anything had been going on between the two of them."

Elladan gave him a sad smile. "We'd all like to think that…"

Aragorn did his best not to grimace as his wife and brothers leaned in to convince Gimli about the existence of an affair that in truth never happened.

To be continued…


	8. The most frightening word

_A/N: Years ago I was reading an interview in a magazine where the interviewee said this: "Change is the scariest word in the human vocabulary." I don't remember who it was or what magazine it was in (it might have been a soap opera magazine; that was probably during my soap opera phase), but that quote has stuck with me ever since._

_On that note, _n'ataya_ is actually the translation I found for "different" but I couldn't for the life of me find an elvish translation for _change.

While the twins and Arwen were offering up bits of reasoning and made-up evidence to convince a resistant Gimli that there had been an affair going on between Legolas and the deceased King Theoden, the elf in question was setting Arod at a brisk pace to catch up with Eomer and his commanders at the head of the processional. He was mildly curious as to what those three and Aragorn needed to speak to the dwarf about in private but not really all that disturbed by the possibilities. Had he still been in Minas Tirith he would have been totally panic-stricken; now that the city was pretty far behind him he could tell himself rationally that if they'd have figured out his secret they wouldn't have been shy about confronting him. After weeks of misery followed by a period of almost all-encompassing paranoia it felt a little strange to feel so free again.

Confident that his baby was and would remain secret and safe, Legolas slowed his horse slightly as they came up behind the leaders of the processional. "Good day, your majesty," he said with a curt nod. "Master Gamling, Master Elfhelm. Please excuse my interruption."

Eomer gently pulled on his steed's reins, causing him to slow enough to fall back beside the prince. Gamling and Elfhelm hastily followed suit. "Good day to you as well," greeted Eomer in a light tone, smiling at the elf in a friendly manner. "No need to ask for pardon. You were not intruding, though I find that I must remind you once more to call me Eomer, _Legolas_."

"I meant no offense," replied Legolas breezily. It was such a nice change of pace to speak with someone who hadn't spent almost all of the last two months worrying about (or judging) him! Before his depression after losing Aragorn it had been a long time since anyone had treated him like a fragile piece of glass or ill child; he certainly hadn't appreciated it. Maybe something positive had come from Elladan's bizarre request after all.

"And I can assure you that none was taken, though it might be in the future," returned Eomer, sounding almost jovial during the solemn occasion.

The faint frowns from both commanders told Legolas that they privately thought that the king's tone was a bit _too _good-humored. He was duly impressed at how well Eomer ignored them – it was a sign of a good monarch that he didn't let the approval of others dictate his actions. "What can we do for you, Legolas?" the Man continued on. "I'm not vain enough to think that you just wanted to chat with me solely for the sake of conversation and I'm sure that no mere chance has brought you up here."

"No, it hasn't," confirmed Legolas politely, feeling a little bad that he _hadn't_ thought of just speaking to Eomer with no other agenda. The king of Rohan seemed nice enough, after all, and it must have been hard to have to deal with losing a beloved family member with no one around to comfort him except Gamling and Elfhelm. "I have a question for you, if you don't mind my asking."

Legolas could have sworn that he saw a grateful glint light up the Rohirrim's eyes. "Not at all," Eomer declared a little too eagerly to just be a host trying to make an honored guest feel more comfortable. "I'm sure this is a confidential matter of great importance. Gamling, Elfhelm," he ordered his men, "I need you two to fall back in the processional. One must check in on the troops while the other sees to it that nothing has happened to my uncle's casket; I don't care which one does which task as long as they are done. And do not come back until I send word that I'm ready for you to rejoin me – Legolas and I must have some privacy."

The two commanders nodded in lieu of bowing and trotted off before Legolas could get a word in edgewise to correct him. "That wasn't necessary, Eomer," he told the king, watching them as Gamling fell into step next to Théoden's casket while Elfhelm vanished into the ranks. "What I have to say is no big secret: I simply wanted to ask when the time of our next stop will be."

"Honestly, it doesn't matter," confessed Eomer unrepentant, rolling his eyes. "You could have been coming here to ask me how old I am or what my hair color is and I still would have sent them away."

"I hope you haven't been having any problems," said Legolas.

Eomer shook his head. "Nothing that threatens my realm or anything nearly that serious," he replied with a shake of his head. "They mean well and I know that they only want what's best for my family and Rohan, but really! Perhaps I'm just too used to commanding my eored around the plains and I need to get used to having so many people giving me so much advice, but I tell you those two are driving me insane! I had no idea just how much of it I'd have to put up with when I became king."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of courtly politics," chuckled Legolas emphatically, recalling his own years stuck dealing with the ins and outs of his father's court in Mirkwood. "You were fortunate enough to be able to escape most of it for the majority of your life, but that's over now. I'm afraid that you'll have people telling you their problems and offering up their unsolicited opinions for the rest of your life – unless you can manage to convince them that one wrong word would lead to dire consequences, of course."

"That won't happen; I have no desire to become a tyrant, even if it means that I will never have another day of peace for the rest of my life," Eomer sighed in a long-suffering voice. Not wanting to think about it anymore, he sought to shift the conversation off of him. "You seem to be speaking from experience. How is it that you have this type of knowledge about royal courts?"

Slightly taken aback, Legolas gave him a hard, appraising look before answering. "I am a prince in my own right," he explained. "I am the son of King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood. I know that wasn't introduced to you as such, but I'm surprised that you didn't know. Didn't you notice the circlet I was wearing at the – at the coronation?"

Ai Elbereth, why did he have to remind himself of that horrible day now when he was finally feeling good again? One moment he was having a perfectly amiable conversation with a friend – or at least someone would have had great potential to become a friend if the circumstances were different – and the next his heart was like stone in his chest at the memory of watching Aragorn marry someone else. The rest of him had reconciled himself to letting the Man go; would his heart ever do the same or was he doomed being in love with a married Man forever? _'I won't let this overpower me,'_ he told himself. _'Even if I have to always love him the love I have for this baby is stronger than that. I will be fine as long as this baby is with me.'_

Thankfully Eomer either didn't notice anything was wrong or else was too polite to mention the way his voice caught. "I did see it," the king said with a great deal of embarrassment. Legolas cocked an eyebrow and Eomer flushed in a very un-kingly and non-warrior manner. "But, well, I thought – I suppose I thought that it was just an ornament that you put in your hair on special occasions."

"Like those things that wealthy women wear to show off their family's wealth?" demanded Legolas, a little insulted. Before the Quest he'd spent almost no time in the company of Men (Aragorn excluded). Rohan had been the first place that he'd been totally immersed in a Mannish culture and he'd been surprised to learn, among other things, how much males of that race valued their beards. It seemed that the strange and sometimes unattractive fur that they grew on their faces was considered to be a sort of basic sign of masculinity and virility. The elf had been less than thrilled to also discover that his lack of any, along with his finer elven features, made most Men assume that he was very young or else very feminine. Well, yes, he _was_ young in the world of elves but Men were mere babies when their years were compared to his. As for the ridiculous notion of being overly feminine for a male, he'd have thought that seeing all of the warrior elves at Helm's Deep would have corrected that.

'_Then again,'_ thought Legolas sadly, _'the other elves had fallen by the time Eomer got there.'_

"It didn't look like a crown to me," offered Eomer weakly, knowing that adding that at least it didn't resemble a _male's_ crown would only make the situation worse.

Burying all of that melancholy for a more appropriate setting, Legolas focused on another strong emotion he was having and sucked in a miffed sniff. "We elves generally don't like to wear things that are overtly ornate," he explained stiffly. "Most of my people find the crowns of the kings of Men to be too extravagant for our tastes. However, my father is rather fond of gems and has a circlet that might be a little more to your liking."

Eomer shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as he tried to come up with some way to fix this. He'd been on the receiving end of Legolas' anger once and had no desire to be there again. "I beg your pardon," he apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you, just as you didn't mean to offend me by not calling me 'Eomer'. They ways of elves are still new to me and I would gladly take your corrections if it means expanding my knowledge of your race."

"Think nothing of it," Legolas told him, suddenly ashamed for how short he'd just been. It wasn't Eomer's fault that he'd started thinking about Aragorn and the loss of so many of his race at Helm's Deep. "Perhaps I was simply looking for someone to snap at. I'm sure you've heard that I've been in an odd mood for awhile now."

"Oh." Eomer could think of nothing more to say, no matter how desperately he tried. It was a shame that their breezy, enjoyable conversation had been disrupted like that; for a moment there he was actually feeling almost normal again. It felt like his world had been turned upside-down ever since he found Theodred clinging to life by the river Isen. Banishment, death, war, and more death had followed; being thrust into the role of king at the same time that his sister announced to him that she wanted to marry a Man of Gondor had succeeded in keeping him off-balance for weeks after the other things had ended. "I can understand that."

"I'm glad."

"Yeah," nodded Eomer. What a wonderful contribution to the conversation; Legolas knew that he wasn't prejudice but now he would think that he was an idiot. Luckily there was still one more thing that they could talk about. "I – um – I – you, you wanted to know when our next stop is going to be," he said lamely. "How specific do you need me to be?"

"However much you want to be," responded Legolas dismissively. "I really don't care either way."

Eomer furrowed his brow. "You rode all the way up here to ask me a question that's not at all important to you?" he asked incredulously. Maybe elves weren't as bizarre as many Men thought but Legolas was definitely strange. "Why would you do that?"

Legolas shook his head and ticked his head to gesture behind him. The Man looked in the direction of his nod and saw the party of elves and Aragorn. The dwarf Gimli was with them too, perched on the back of one of the Rivendell twins' (he didn't know which one; he would need more time with them before he could tell them apart) horse. Both twins and Queen Arwen Evenstar appeared to be talking at him at once and whatever they were saying was leaving him dumbfounded. Their father, the legendary Lord Elrond, watched all of this with an unreadable expression on his face. He only looked away every once in awhile to glance at Aragorn. As for the new king of Gondor, he seemed to be too intent on following the conversation before him to meet his foster father's eyes.

Only once did Aragorn tear his gaze away and that was to look ahead toward Eomer and Legolas. The elf must have felt those eyes burning into his back but he refused to turn around; Eomer, however, accidentally caught the other king's stare and their eyes locked. What he saw there was as unexpected and oddly awesome as it was troubling: Aragorn looked to be lost, in love, trapped, hopeful, angry, and harboring a burning jealousy too. Why on Middle-earth would a Man who'd just married the female of his dreams, the one that he'd loved and waited for decades to marry, feel so many dark emotions? It wasn't something that Eomer understood or felt ready to try to comprehend and he looked away quickly.

"They want you to ask me something so that you could report it back to them?" he asked Legolas, still feeling Aragorn's eyes boring into him. "Aren't they all a little too old to be acting like teenagers?"

"One would think so," replied Legolas.

"Yes," drawled Eomer thoughtfully. "But at least we're up here and away from all of that. It looks like poor Gimli is getting the brunt of it. Why is he with them, anyway? Wasn't he on your horse?"

"He was, but the royal party of Gondor needed to speak to him in secret," said Legolas blithely. He didn't want to chance losing control of his emotions so soon after almost slipping back into a melancholy mood, but he could only imagine what they were talking about given Eomer's reaction to what he saw. "And I'm not supposed to know this, so Elladan sent me to speak to you."

"Odd," remarked Eomer, though he really didn't think it was that way anymore. Legolas and the children of Elrond seemed to have a similar relationship that he, Eowyn, and Theodred had once had. He let his mouth quirk into a small smile. "Your hair was quite the topic of conversation when we were in Gondor; perhaps they weren't through discussing it yet."

Legolas snorted. "I'm sure that it has something to do with that," he replied guardedly. More likely they were gossiping in a concerned way about his out-of-character behavior.

"But why?" blurted out Eomer. He was instantly sorry that he asked, considering how well things had gone the last time they'd strayed to the topic of the elf's hair. Still, the question was now out there and Eomer knew that he couldn't take it back without implying to Legolas that he thought he was overly sensitive. Oh well; he was curious about it anyway. "Forgive my ignorance about your culture, but why does it matter if you wear your hair loose or in braids? Is there some sort of significance to either style?"

Legolas reached back and twisted his largest braid around his fingers. "These braids are the markings of a warrior in my culture," he explained. "After an elf has achieved a certain level of skill in their weapons training they are permitted to wear their hair in braids. They mark someone as being able – and expected – to defend their people. It's practical in that it keeps it out of one's way while fighting as well as being very symbolic. After you're allowed to have the braids you only wear it loose during times of absolute peace or when you're under the protection of a stronger force."

"I take it that no one's seen out without braids in a long time," guessed Eomer kindly.

"No," confirmed Legolas. "In places like, say, Rivendell it was possible for the warriors to take their hair down during times of rest. However, I'm from Mirkwood and there we were under constant threat from the darkness dwelling in the southern part of the forest. I've been so used wearing it up that I never took it down, even when I was visiting Rivendell." He nodded once again in the direction of Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, and Aragorn. "They just weren't used to seeing me wearing my hair in any other way."

"I see," said Eomer slowly. "You wear braids during times of strife and have your hair loose when things are peaceful." He was silent for a moment. "Who are you planning on meeting in battle now?"

Everyone and everything there was – as far as Legolas was concerned it was him and his baby against the world. "You never know," he said aloud casually. "Not all of the orcs were destroyed when Sauron fell; I know from firsthand experience that many dwell in Moria and various caves in the mountains. It will be years before we're finally rid of their malice and filth once and for all. It stands to reason that it would be wise for us to always be prepared."

"Good," smiled Eomer in relief. When Legolas gave him an odd look he blushed slightly. "Not about the orcs and all of that, of course. I was just a little worried that you were expecting to have some sort of conflict with me."

"And why would I expect that?"

"Because of our first meeting," answered Eomer, feeling a bit foolish. There had been no reason why he should have thought that Legolas would nurse a grudge toward him. They'd even gotten along fairly well at the celebration following their return from Isengard during the war. "I didn't not behave in a hospitable manner when we first met, insulting Gimli and insinuating that you were a spy for Saruman. I made my peace with Gimli, but I never apologized to you; please allow me to do that now."

"No," replied Legolas. Eomer's face fell and the elf gave him a reassuring smile. "It's not necessary; think nothing more of it, Eomer. Times were dark then and many evil things were moving about. It was your duty to protect your people first and play the polite host to uninvited guests second. Believe me when I say that had our positions been reversed and you'd have entered Mirkwood without permission you would have ended up in my father's dungeons. Honestly, I would've been distrustful and disappointed if we'd gotten any other greeting from you; it would have meant that you were far too trusting or else leading us into a trap. You have a great strength in you, Eomer, and now I see that you are quite gracious too. Rohan is fortunate to have you for its king. I can tell that you have the ability to handle just about anything," he added, hoping that he'd have the same gift when he needed it.

"I hope so," murmured Eomer as Edoras came into view before them as they turned the final corner in the processional's path. "I have a feeling that I'll need all my strength and abilities once we get to the Golden Hall."

Legolas suddenly remembered the sober reason for their journey from Gondor to Rohan. "Are you concerned about getting through King Theoden's burial?" he questioned Eomer compassionately. "I understand that he was like a father to you."

Eomer shook his head. "No," he said. "I unfortunately have attended many funerals of people that I care about, including both of my parents'." He waved his hand when he saw the prince about to speak up. "It was a long time ago. This won't be easy but I know I'll get through it all right. What I'm nervous about is announcing Eowyn's betrothal to Faramir; I've faced death many times but I've never had to let my sister go before. Meduseld is going to be very empty – I'm going to be the only member of my family left dwelling there."

"You could always get married," suggested Legolas.

"Very funny."

"You'll have to do it eventually," the elf pointed out, and shook his head when Eomer grimaced. "You'll see. But perhaps you're protesting simply because you fear change."

The Man let out a knowing sigh. "What is the elvish word for 'change', Legolas?" he asked.

"_N'ataya _is the closest translation," Legolas told him, giving him a questioning look.

"When my mother died, Eowyn and I went to live with my uncle in Meduseld," said Eomer, smiling sadly at the memory. "I wasn't handling losing her very well and he knew it. One day he pulled me onto my lap and told me that it was all right if I missed her and was scared about what was going to happen to me because 'change' is the most frightening word in any race's vocabulary. Now I see that's true, even when it's spoken in such a fair tongue. Yet it comes anyway, no matter how much you fight it. All we can do is find a way to adjust."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The funeral went as well as could be expected. Many cried, though Eomer and Eowyn stood tall the entire time and did not let their despair rule them. Merry lingered after the final song had ended to give Theoden a more personal goodbye before suffering himself to be led away by a sympathetic Pippin. It was a sorrowful occasion; yet it was a proud one too, for no other king of Rohan had such an impressive collection of honorable mourners from all the races of the free folk. The people of the Mark were satisfied in knowing that it had been a proper tribute to their fallen king.

That evening, as tradition dictated, there was a feast to drive away the sorrow of losing King Theoden by celebrating his life as well as the years that were to come. Legolas didn't feel much like celebrating but found that he couldn't tear himself away from the Great Hall. He'd planned on having one last adventure with Gimli but this was probably going to be the last chance he'd have to spend time with the hobbits and Gandalf like this. How he was going to miss the little ones' cheery, simple dispositions and the old wizard's kind gruffness! Besides, he felt the need to be there to support Eomer. It was a shame that he'd only gotten to know the Man right before he had to go away; but what was done was done and there was no use in lamenting the loss of a friendship that would never be.

Finally, Eomer stood before the crowd and raised up a hand to quiet them. "Thank you," he said as they fell silent. "As you know, this feast is to honor the memory of our great King Theoden. I doubt, though, that he would object to me making this announcement now, as it concerns my sister who was like a daughter to him. Eowyn is as valiant as any rider of Rohan, fairest of our realm's maidens, and held very dear in my heart. Needless to say, only the most honorable of Men could ever hope to gain my approval to marry her and she has found one who fulfills those stringent requirements. It is my pleasure to tell you all tonight about the betrothal of my sister, Lady Eowyn of Rohan, to the Lord Faramir of Gondor and Ithilien."

The hall erupted in applause and shouts of congratulations as Eowyn and Faramir stepped forward to stand beside Eomer, their hands lovingly clasped together. Aragorn, Legolas, Merry, and Pippin all made their way through the crowd to join them. "You are very generous, Eomer," noted Aragorn. "Not many kings would be able to part with the fairest thing in their realm."

Eomer merely nodded but Eowyn looked Aragorn in the eye. "Wish me joy," she requested.

"I have wished you joy since I first saw you," Aragorn told her warmly. "I find peace in knowing that you're happy."

Everyone there who knew of her love for Aragorn knew what she was doing: she was ready to move on with her life and finally possessed the contentment to bid the past goodbye. It was a comfort to Aragorn, who'd felt so guilty about not being able to return her love. Legolas, however, was envious. She was letting go of the Man because she'd found love with someone else while he was letting him go to flee even while he was still in love with him. Watching Eowyn and Faramir exchange adoring stares he wondered bleakly if he'd ever know the same peace that she was feeling right now.

To be continued…


	9. I need to remember this

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from the song "The End of the Innocence" by Don Henley. I don't ususally do this, but here is the entire song and not just the relevant verses because it matches the tone of both this chapter and the next:_

_Remember when the days were long  
And rolled beneath a deep blue sky  
Didn't have a care in the world  
With mommy and daddy standin' by  
But "happily ever after" fails  
And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales  
The lawyer dwell on small details  
Since daddy had to fly _

But I know a place where we can go  
That's still untouched by men  
We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by  
And the tall grass wave in the wind  
You can lay your head back on the ground  
And let your hair fall all around me  
Offer up your best defense  
But this is the end  
This is the end of the innocence

O'beautiful, for spacious skies  
But now those skies are threatening  
They're beating plowshares into swords  
For this tired old man that we elected king  
Armchair warriors often fail  
And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales  
The lawyers clean up all details  
Since daddy had to lie

But I know a place where we can go  
And wash away this sin  
We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by  
And the tall grass wave in the wind  
Just lay your head back on the ground  
And let your hair spill all around me  
Offer up your best defense  
But this is the end  
This is the end of the innocnece

Who knows how long this will last  
Now we've come so far, so fast  
But, somewhere back there in the dust  
That same small town in each of us  
I need to remember this  
So baby give me just one kiss  
And let me take a long last look  
Before we say goodbye

Just lay your head back on the ground  
And let your hair fall all around me  
Offer up your best defense  
But this is the end  
This is the end of the innocence

Aragorn was old enough to know that time alters most memories. Sometimes it took mere hours, sometimes days or months, sometimes years, but in the end it stretches them, makes them fade, and changes them so much that the day comes when a person reminiscing can no longer be sure what is factual and what is simply the product of wishes and imagination. However, the Man also knew that there were a few memories that were just too cherished to allow time to ravage them. _Those_ were meant to be played over and over again in the mind so that they never fade. One never got tired of them either, for those memories were more often than not of the best times in a person's life – times that could never happen again.

For Aragorn there was one such memory that he jealously guarded from any alteration no matter how much the outside world tried to make him forget it. Marriage to Arwen, the constant pressure of Elrond to let go of the past, and the former wanderer's stifling new responsibilities to the people of Gondor robbed him of most of the things that he held dear in his previous life but they could not have his memories. Nor did he ever try to improve it in any way even though there were some things that he would have done differently if he'd ever been offered the chance. No, he would risk no harm to the recollection, lest he lose the realism of it. Aragorn was certain that he would lose his mind if ever the day came when he couldn't remember the first time that he and Legolas made love in painstaking detail.

_Flashback_

_The events of the previous night and following morning caused several emotions to jumble inside of Aragorn's mind: weariness from continuous battle without rest; soreness for the same reason; a crushing sort of grief over the Men, elves, and little boys that had died in the defense of Helm's Deep; and finally elation at their unexpected against-all-odds victory. Gandalf had come in the nick of time as he promised – as he usually tended to do – bringing Eomer and a host of Rohirrim to aid the refugees in their darkest hour. Now that the women and children were being led out of the caves, joyous reunions and painful searches through the corpses for loved ones were happening all around him. Aragorn didn't join in all of this, though; he was too busy searching the battle grounds for any sign of Legolas – _his _Legolas._

_The Man shivered with delight just thinking about the gorgeous elf as his. Whatever else happened during the War Aragorn knew that all of his deeds were already worth it because they brought him and Legolas to the perfect point where they stopped masking their feelings for one another and declared their love. He could scarcely believe it: after decades of separation and almost making the biggest mistake of his life by committing to Arwen when he didn't love her, he and Legolas were reunited at last. Aragorn could still feel the elf prince's passionate kiss on his lips and hear him say that he loved him._

_Thank Elbereth that his newly-recovered love hadn't fallen in battle along with the rest of the elves! There had been moments when Aragorn lost sight of Legolas and feared the worst but the elf always turned up again (often, Aragorn mused with chagrin, to save the Man's life). While they still needed to keep their love a secret out of respect for Arwen - it being unseemly to start a new relationship so quickly after another one had just ended - Aragorn felt like he was on top of the world. Now that they had lived through the night and emerged victorious it seemed as if there wasn't anything that he couldn't do._

_Anything, apparently, except locate Legolas. Aragorn sent a silent thanks to the Valar that he knew for a fact that the elf still lived. Otherwise he would have been going insane searching through the bodies of the fallen and cursing himself for waiting to declare his true feelings until it was too late to share more than a few stolen moments together. No, the Man had seen Legolas slip away with Gimli when the women and children started pouring out of the fortress after whispering something about checking scores and not being in the way. Aragorn knew him well enough to realize that Legolas didn't want to witness the happiness and mourning that was about to happen as family members learned each other's fates, not so soon after watching so many of his own race perish._

'I should be with him,'_ thought Aragorn with a little annoyance. He'd actually started to follow the two away from the Rohirrim but Eowyn had chosen that moment to come out of the caves and immediately hurried to block his path. Overjoyed at the sight of the Man she believed she loved (though Aragorn couldn't see how that was possible – she barely knew him, after all) still alive, she'd gaped openmouthed before grabbing his face excitedly. For one horrible moment he'd feared that she was going to kiss him and therefore complicate matters by forcing him to reject her outright. Thankfully, though, she'd settled on giving him an uncomfortably long and overly familiar embrace before sprinting off to reunite with her older brother. That was perfectly all right with Aragorn – now that Eomer and Eowyn were occupying each other's attentions and Gandalf was in deep discussion with Theoden about what the next move should be he had the chance to slip off with Legolas unnoticed and unmissed._

_There! Four Rohirrim obstructing his view picked up the corpse of an uruk-hai and moved it to one of the body piles, revealing Legolas talking to a seated Gimli not too far away. Aragorn watched and became unusually excited as the elf caressed his bow fondly. As Arwen had never awoken any passion within him, it had been a long time since he'd been aroused by anyone without feeling guilty about it. _'This is freedom,'_ Aragorn realized. _'This is _love_. Two people who can touch each other without it being seen as disrespectful. There is no one on a pedestal in this relationship; just Legolas, me, and the way that we feel about each other._ Oh, he couldn't wait until they were finally alone!_

_Aragorn could tell by the shift in the prince's expression and the way that his eyes slid up to Gimli's face that his and Legolas' time alone together had better come soon. Obviously the dwarf had said something that had hit a nerve within the elf, stirring a stubborn and aggressive nature that was more often than not best left undisturbed. The Man started to make his way over to the bickering duo when Legolas readied an arrow in one fast, fluid motion and let it loose…at Gimli?_

_The ranger breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the shot had landed just under him. Still, Gimli wouldn't be happy that Legolas had aimed so close to that particular part of his body, nor would he be pleased by the little act of aggression. In fact, if the way that he was yanking at his axe was any indication Aragorn would have to intervene quickly. It would be devastating if they ended up killing each other after all that they'd just been through._

_He sprinted over to the pair as quickly as he could, just in time to hear Gimli yell: "…imbedded in his nervous system!" Carefully placing himself between them, Aragorn held out both hands in a peaceful and restraining gesture. "How now, my friends?" he asked in a soothing voice. "Has there not been enough war and bloodshed already? Why do you two find it necessary to turn your weapons on each other?"_

"_Aragorn," greeted Gimli with his usual gruffness as he looked over the Man's shoulder to give Legolas a disapproving, almost paternal, frown. "I'm glad you're finally here. Perhaps you can talk this stubborn elf into admitting that I bested him in our killing game? As it is he's shooting orcs that are already dead in a desperate attempt to match my number."_

"One_ orc," stressed Legolas. "I shot _one _orc that was twitching so much that it was entirely plausible to believe that he was just about to jump up and kill you. Don't go making it sound as if you killed a whole legion more than me and I'm shooting the carcass piles in order to catch up."_

"_One orc, one hundred orcs – the number doesn't matter," said Gimli in a flippant tone. "I beat you; now act like a dwarf and admit it out loud."_

_Legolas' eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. "Like a _dwarf_?" he asked incredulously. "Since when have dwarves been renowned for their ability to concede defeat?"_

_Gimli narrowed his eyes in response. "Well, I'd rather be a stubborn and victorious dwarf than a pointy-eared elvish princeling who's a sore loser."_

"_Peace, peace!" cried Aragorn as Legolas made a move forward as if he was about to pummel the dwarf. He was tempted to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of two seasoned warriors squabbling like children but one look at Legolas' face told him that he would do better to keep his mouth shut. At least now he had an idea about what Gimli had said to infuriate his lover so. "Let's not debate this now, master dwarf. I desire to speak with Legolas for a time and I'm sure that you're very hungry. Why don't you find some food? By the time we meet up again I'm certain that you two will be able to resolve this matter as friends."_

_For a moment it looked as if Gimli was about to protest; then his stomach grumbled loudly and he settled for patting it comfortingly. "Sounds like a plan to me," he agreed reluctantly. "I deal with annoying princelings better on a full stomach anyway. Maybe you'll have better luck in getting that laddie under control."_

_Again Legolas' expression clouded over but Aragorn just nodded amiably and the dwarf took off. "So," said the Man with a bit of a smirk on his face when he was certain that Gimli was far enough away not to overhear them. "You're a 'pointy-eared elvish princeling', huh?"_

"_Of all the ways he could have described me he had to pick that one," complained Legolas as he rolled his eyes. "I can handle being called 'pointy-eared' – they _do _point – and there's no insult in calling me elvish no more than there is in me calling him a dwarf, but _princeling_?"  
_

"_He doesn't know," Aragorn tried to placate him._

"_I must have told him at some point," Legolas continued to grouse. "Isn't it enough that my father has always referred to my title as 'princeling' even in formal settings without Gimli latching on to it as well? Never 'Prince Legolas' but always 'Legolas, Mirkwood's princeling' – do I look like a child to you?"_

"_No," answered Aragorn honestly. "You look like someone I need to squire off to some out-of-the-way place before I kiss you in front of everyone because, quite frankly, once I start I won't be stopping for a long time."_

_The look on the elf's face instantly changed from one of righteous annoyance to that of barely hindered desire. "There are many small rooms inside the fortress and everyone appears to be gathering out here," he pointed out eagerly, grabbing Aragorn's arm discreetly. "I suggest that we find one of these as quickly as we can, for I ache to feel your lips against mine once more."_

_They rushed inside as fast as they could without arousing suspicion or questions and set out immediately to find a room that would suit their needs. In the end it didn't take them that long to find an unoccupied one that was a corridor away from the main hallway, giving them even more privacy. It was on the small side – only big enough to hold one table without any chairs – but to the couple it looked absolutely perfect._

_The door had barely closed and locked behind them before Aragorn seized Legolas in his arms, capturing his lips in a soul-bearing kiss. "We're finally alone," the Man murmured when the need for air forced them to part a little. "We haven't been _alone_ since that summer in Mirkwood."_

_Legolas traced the ranger's chin with his fingertips. "Aragorn," he breathed, his lips brushing against Aragorn's as he whispered the name._

_It was like Legolas was kissing him with his words. Aragorn found this too tantalizing for their mouths to be separated any longer and kissed him again. Gently urging Legolas' lips apart, he massaged the elf's tongue with his own and drank in the cries of pleasure that were coming from the back of his throat while using his hands to rub large circles up and down his back. It felt _so _good, better than anything that they'd done when they were still young and innocent in Mirkwood. Aragorn finally understood why people claimed that they could be driven mad with lust; he could feel himself losing control when…. "My love?" asked the Man, confused as his palm rested against a strange lump on the small of Legolas' back. "What is this?"_

"_That?" asked Legolas as if he were stalling for time, which of course Aragorn knew that he was. "It's nothing, really – just a little…well, just a little knife."_

_A knife? Questions swirled around in Aragorn's mind and he settled on asking the most obvious one. "Why are you carrying a knife around with you _there_?"_

"_Aragorn, you must never let anyone else know about this, but I've always carried it back there," the elf informed him. "Ada insisted upon it since the day he gave it to me."_

"_But I don't remember you taking anything out from the small of your back when Gandalf had us comply with Hama's order to surrender our weapons when we first arrived at Meduseld." Aragorn's perplexed expression gave way to a wicked grin when Legolas just blinked at him. "Gandalf doesn't know about it, does he?"_

_Legolas shook his head. "No one does," he replied, "except Ada and now you."_

"_Clever!" said Aragorn with a mixture of admiration and horror. "Dangerous also – what would the guards have done if they'd found out that you were still armed? – but still, it was clever nonetheless."_

"_I wasn't trying to endanger the four of us in any way," insisted Legolas. "Ada told me to keep it an absolute secret so that no matter what I would always have at least one advantage over my adversaries. Aragorn, please swear to me that you will tell no one."_

_Aragorn planted an almost ridiculously chaste peck on the tip of his nose. "I would never betray your confidence like that," he assured him while he explored the knife's handle through Legolas' tunic. "That's really something, Legolas. I marvel that you can manage to sit down with the blade right there."_

"_I haven't been," replied Legolas with a laugh. "Well, I can if I have to but I've found that I don't have to all that often. Except when I ride Arod of course, and the way one sits on a horse is different to the way that one sits when they're just relaxing. It's difficult to get comfortable with the knife in the position that it's in."_

"_Well, since you'll need to be comfortable here I'll just have to take care of it," reasoned the Man as he lifted Legolas' tunic and removed the knife, tossing it aside. In doing so, his fingers brushed against the elf's flesh. Aragorn felt a thrill course through him when he felt Legolas tremble. "I have never felt anything as smooth and perfect as your skin." He moved his fingers around just enough to tickle Legolas' flesh. "May I touch more of it, please?"_

"_Yes, oh yes," gasped Legolas. He leaned back into Aragorn's exciting caresses as the Man lightly traced lines and patterns into his back – teasing and never enough. "It feels like you're lighting fires in my skin wherever you touch me. I _burn_ for you, my love."_

_Never before had he seen Legolas lose control of his emotions on such a high level. It made Aragorn feel drunk with giddiness and recklessness. He wondered what else he could do to further the prince's spiral into chaotic ecstasy. "Legolas –" he began but couldn't find the words. He would just let his touches do the talking and back off apologetically if his love objected to them._

_With slightly shaking hands Aragorn ran his fingers across the elf's back and down to his sides. Pausing briefly to stroke them lovingly, he then drew his hand up Legolas' chest until he felt his nipples at his fingertips. Very slowly and cautiously to give Legolas time to tell him no, Aragorn started circling them and gazed with reverent awe at Legolas' reaction. The elf sucked in some air and fell back until he was perching on the edge of the table. No objections came forth so the Man began to gently tweak the responsive nipples into hard nubs._

_His efforts were rewarded when Legolas let out a choked sob. "Aragorn," the prince whispered. He bit his lip, seemingly at war with himself for a minute before continuing. "I cannot bear this any longer."_

"_I'm sorry," Aragorn apologized immediately as he started pulling his hand away._

_Legolas caught him by the wrist before the ranger could move. "You misunderstand," he said quietly. "I – I need for you to touch me."_

"_I am touching you," murmured Aragorn, leaning forward to rumble into his pointed ear._

"_No, mela," said Legolas almost solemnly. "The fire has spread. I need for you to _touch_ me. The ache is so powerful that I will surely lose my mind if you don't."_

_Aragorn had to pause for a moment to catch his breath and compose himself. He could feel the tension in Legolas' body, as if the elf was holding back a flood of emotions. Aragorn had to see them. Hesitantly pulling his hand out from under his tunic to give Legolas the time to change his mind if he needed to, he reached down and untied the elf's leggings. Legolas swallowed a gasp when Aragorn stuck one hand inside and started to worship the flesh there. "Is this all right?" the Man asked a little nervously._

"_It's more than all right; it's the most glorious thing –" Legolas' voice cut off as he threw his head back with a cry. _

_How Aragorn felt before when Legolas brushed their lips together while whispering his name was _nothing_ compared to the desire he felt watching the elf coming undone by his touch. He immediately attached his mouth to the exposed neck, kissing, sucking, and licking all while he continued his ministrations and relished in the prince's every broken cry. "Yes – Ai, Elbereth, yes – it's – it's so good – too good – my love – ai – you make me – feel – as I, I never have – before. So incre-incredible – my dearest – _ai_!"_

_Warmth covered Aragorn's hand at the last passionate cry. He tenderly removed it from the elf's leggings and took Legolas, sated and breathing heavily, into his arms. "I take you that you liked it?" he asked with affectionate teasing._

"_So much," confirmed Legolas, moving away just enough so that he could smile up at him._

_The way he looked, the sound of physical fulfillment in his voice, the way he made the Man feel – all of it was making Aragorn keenly aware of both the throbbing in his heart and also somewhere else. It wouldn't be…proper to ask for what he so desperately wanted and there were so many reasons not to bring it up at all. After all, he couldn't love Legolas more and he didn't want him thinking that the Man was only after his body. Yet after the miracle of winning the battle and in the face of the horrors that the future would surely bring, reason didn't seem to belong in that room "Legolas," said Aragorn uncertainly, wary of his love's reaction. "My love, may I – I wish to make love to you."_

_The content expression faded from Legolas face and he looked torn. "We don't have to," amended Aragorn hastily. "Oh, forgive me! I shouldn't have said anything; I just love you so much that I think sometimes that my heart will burst and I guess I lost my head for a moment. We have time; we can wait."_

"_What time?" mused Legolas in a soft voice. "I remember seeing you trapped outside the Keep with all of those uruks surrounding you. I could have lost you then and there; and there is no guarantee that we will both survive the War ahead. I can't stand the thought of looking back on this moment and regretting what could have been."_

"_Are you saying what I think you're saying?"_

_Legolas gracefully kicked off his boots and shed his tunic. "Make love to me, Aragorn," he requested as he lifted his hips enough to slide off his unbound leggings. "Let's make this a moment that we'll always cherish."_

_Aragorn stared in wonder at his lithe, already responding, body. "You're beautiful," he managed to croak out. "There isn't a part of you that isn't perfect."_

"_In your eyes, perhaps," replied Legolas humbly. "But why am I the only one here who is disrobed? I want to see you, Aragorn."_

_The Man must have set a record ridding himself of his garments, letting them fly everywhere so haphazardly that his hunt for them later would prove to be a great source of amusement for his new lover. At the moment, however, Legolas was too busy staring at Aragorn's erection to think about anything beyond that point. "What – what now?" the elf asked, unconsciously licking his lips._

"_You're going to relax," Aragorn told him as he picked up the coat that he'd dropped carelessly by his feet and rummaged through the pockets. "And I'm going to get some lotion."_

"_Why?" wondered Legolas, watching as Aragorn pulled out a small vial._

"_Well, usually I use this to soften my hands before I heal someone. My skin there is quite rough," explained Aragorn though Legolas hardly needed it at that point. He walked deliberately forward until he was standing inches away from the elf and with a seductive smile he pushed Legolas down onto the table on his back. "But now it's going to ease our joining. This will hurt at first, my love, but it will get better. I swear that I'm going to make this good for you."_

_There were so many things that should have been different. He and Legolas should have been formally bonded. Their first time together should have been in a bed located in a proper bedchamber, not on a table in a little room at Helm's Deep. They should have had all the time in the world to explore each other's bodies. But none of that mattered to Aragorn then. All he could focus on was the unbelievable pleasure that rushed through his body as he thrust, the way that Legolas met every thrust with one of his own, and the sweet way that his lover cried his name as he once again reached his peak: "Aragorn!"_

_End flashback_

"Aragorn!"

The memory shattered around him and Aragorn was forced once again to face reality: it was Arwen, not Legolas, who was beneath him and crying out his name as she climaxed. The Man used to feel guilty about thinking of Legolas while joining (he would never call what they did 'making love') with her but that didn't last long. He quickly found that if he didn't imagine his real love there would be no way that he could perform with her at all.

She snuggled up against him as soon as he rolled off; Aragorn fought the urge to shove her away. "That was wonderful," sighed Arwen contentedly. "How I wish that you weren't going away tomorrow! Then you could stay in bed with me all day."

'_Not everything is about you,'_ thought Aragorn spitefully. Valar, was this how life was going to be from now on? He could see no signs of the friendship that he once felt for her returning; in fact his resentment about having to forsake Legolas to be with her made every second he spent in Arwen's presence more and more unbearably irritating. Aragorn was glad that he'd be rid of her soon, albeit temporarily.

"We need to speak to the Ents," he said aloud. "Treebeard at least will want news of how the War went. Besides, I have a feeling that this is the last time that all of the Fellowship will be together and it's important to me that I get in every moment that I can until we part ways."

"I won't impose on those bonds of friendship," said Arwen. "But do hurry back so that we can return to the city. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can start working on creating that child I saw in my vision."

Aragorn groaned inwardly. It sounded like he was going to need the memories of the only two times that he and Legolas made love a lot once they settled back in Minas Tirith. What if he had to use them so much that they did end up growing stale? He couldn't even stand the thought of it. _'Maybe I'll make up some lovely fantasies,'_ he decided, allowing himself to give a little secretive dreamy smile. Yes, his thoughts were still his own and no one, not Arwen or Elrond or anyone else, could rob him entirely of Legolas as long as he had that. _'I believe that Legolas would look utterly enticing swimming around naked in that huge bath in the citadel…"_

_To be continued…_

_A/N: This story now has over 100 reviews! Thank you to everyone who took the time to drop me a note; it means a lot to me._

_A/N: In response to some of the comments that the reviews of the last chapter had:_

_I'm usually a pure Legolas/Aragorn fan as well. I have absolutely no idea where this story came from and I almost didn't write it. In the end I had to, though; it was blocking all of my other story ideas!_

_The order in which the couples were listed in the summary means nothing concerning the ending. It's just the couples in the order of their appearance as official couples. I know how the story's going to end but I would never give it away that soon._


	10. Keep me moving somehow

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from the song Break Down Here by Julie Roberts. Here are the relevant part of a verse and the chorus:__  
_

_Under fifty-thousand miles ago  
Before the bad blood and busted radio  
You said I was all you'd ever need  
Love is blind and little did I know  
That you were just another dead-end road  
Paved with pretty lies and broken dreams..._

_I'd sure hate to break down here  
Nothin up ahead or in the rear-view mirror  
Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin  
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin  
God help me keep me movin somehow  
Don't let me start wishin I was with him now  
I've made it this far without cryin a single tear  
I'd sure hate to break down here_

Outside of the Golden Hall of Meduseld there was one horse that more loaded down with packs than any other, a fact made fairly remarkable when it was taken into consideration that the other horses' riders were going to be traveling much farther distances. For his part, though, Arod didn't mind having to carry so much as he did the reason behind the presence of so many packs: his faithful elf companion, Legolas, was planning on going away. The steed didn't understand why or where to but the elf's murmurings had tipped him off that he probably wouldn't be going to wherever Legolas ended up. If true it would be a sore blow to Arod, who'd already endured the loss of one master all too recently.

For Legolas, bidding his horse a fond farewell was the least of his troubles. At least Arod couldn't cry and talk, unlike his other companions whose tears and words had the power to break his resolve. _'That's why you have a plan,'_ he reminded himself as he carefully balanced the last of his packs onto the horse's back. He patted Arod in a comforting, friendly matter only to have the steed stare mournfully back at him. _'You know that this is the best path that you could have chosen under the circumstances. Put one foot in front of the other and be strong! This is just the beginning of the difficult part but you'll get through it. Remember that your baby needs you to get through it and then once it's done you'll never have to do it again.'_

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear someone come up to him and start talking. The person stood at Legolas' elbow for several seconds before realizing that he wasn't listening and tugged at his sleeve, causing the elf to jump with a gasp. "Legolas?" asked Pippin questioningly. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Pippin," apologized Legolas in haste, mindful to pry his hand away from clutching at his chest. "You startled me."

"If that's so then shouldn't _I_ be the one who's saying he's sorry?" demanded the young hobbit.

"I didn't mean that I'm sorry for that," replied Legolas, a little flustered. It wouldn't bode well for his plan if he became unnerved under Pippin's innocent inquiries. He needed to regain his focus or else everyone would figure out that something was going on and getting away would be made that much more difficult. "You were saying something, were you not? I was apologizing for not hearing it."

"I was just wondering where you got so much stuff," said Pippin as he studied the elf's face worriedly. "During the Quest you had the least amount of things to carry and now you've got more than the rest of us put together."

Legolas smiled faintly and patted the pile of supplies on Arod's back. "It's just a few things that I've accumulated along the way," he said.

"I have a few souvenirs myself," Pippin told him. Legolas relaxed for a second, thinking that he'd dealt with the situation quite well when the hobbit continued on. "How could you miss what I said, especially with your keen hearing? You're getting sick again, aren't you?

The elf felt a new burst of guilt at having Pippin fuss over his well being. The hobbits had gotten as attached to him as he was to them, only they were younger and not used to the idea of not being surrounded by everyone that they loved for the rest of their lives. The Quest, after all, had been an all-encompassing but ultimately temporary thing and Pippin, Merry, Sam, and Frodo had all expected to return to the Shire unless death stopped them. Leaving their new companions behind to go back to their old lives was more painful in some ways because it was more permanent and it was starting to show in the way that they were acting. If this was how Pippin reacted when he just _suspected_ that something might be wrong, how was he going to take the news that would surely be passed around if – when – Legolas' plan was a success? "Pippin –"

"Or else you were just pretending to feel better before so that no one would give you a hard time about taking part in the funeral processional," Pippin went on as if Legolas hadn't spoken. "Please, don't act strong for our sakes! You don't need to be traveling with us if you're not feeling well."

"I want to see everyone off," replied Legolas in what he hoped was a breezy tone. "Besides, I'm leaving too; it seems silly for me to ride off alone then while the rest of you head off in another direction."

"But you don't have to be off right away," argued Pippin stubbornly. "Merry says that King Eomer is nice; I bet that he'd let you stay here for a bit while you rested up and had a healer look over you. We all would miss you, of course, but it wouldn't be the end of the world; we'll see each other again – someday."

Elbereth, must he endure this onslaught of heartache? "Let me assure you, dear Pippin, that I'm fine and will most definitely be joining the Fellowship on this last little journey," said Legolas firmly. "I would miss saying goodbye to you for anything." Well, almost anything – if he thought for a moment that Aragorn had guessed that he was pregnant or that Elrond figured out that he hadn't terminated the child he would leave immediately whether he'd said his proper farewells or not.

Pippin opened his mouth to respond but another voice cut him off before he could so much as utter a sound. "Peregrin Took, what do you think you're doing?" demanded Sam. Both Pippin and Legolas turned their heads to see the stout hobbit walking toward them with Frodo at his side. "Now you shouldn't be pestering Mr. Legolas now! We're to be off soon and I know for a fact that you aren't all packed and ready to go."

"He's not feeling well," reported Pippin urgently, pointing at Legolas. The elf couldn't help but feel like he was being tattled on.

Instantly Sam turned his attentions on to the prince, who did indeed – now that he was looking at him more closely – look to be a little ill. Knowing how stoic and strong Legolas was, the fact that any sign of sickness had slipped into his expression and body language undoubtedly meant that something was terribly wrong. "Oh, I knew you weren't recovered enough to make that last trip here," asked Sam, trying to reach for Legolas' forehead in order to take his temperature. When he couldn't reach and the elf showed no signs of bending over Sam settled for grabbing his hand. "When did all of this start up again?"

"It hasn't –"

"I just noticed it right now, but who knows how long it's actually been going on?" supplied Pippin when he realized that Legolas was about to deny everything. Honestly, if he wasn't going to take care of himself then the hobbit would do it for him! "But he's still insisting on coming with us and won't even let anyone look him over either."

"Is that true?" asked Sam, getting more incredulous when Legolas just sighed and gave him a funny look. "Well, that won't do at all! I've never heard of anything more ridiculous! I suppose it's useless to try to talk you into giving yourself more time to recover by staying here, but why not get checked over by a healer? I'm sure that Strider or that nice Lord Elrond would be more than happy to do it before we get going."

Aragorn and Elrond – the very two people that Legolas _wouldn't_ want examining him even if he consented to such a thing, and not only because they might discover his pregnancy. To feel the Man's hands on him again, even in such a clinical way, would drive him mad with grief and he was still too furious at the way that Elrond had treated him and his baby to even consider putting them both in a position that would make them vulnerable to the elf lord again. He needed to get the hobbits to drop the subject before one of them actually took matters into his own hands and summoned either Aragorn or Elrond without his consent.

"This is a strange turn of events," said Legolas lightly, hoping to downplay the issue of his health with some cheerfulness. "Just a short time ago I spent most of my waking hours, and plenty of my sleeping ones too, worrying about you hobbits' well beings and now here you are making this big fuss over me! I appreciate it, my friends, but it's all unnecessary, really – I was just too caught up in my own thoughts before. That's why I took so long to respond; I'm not ill, I promise."

"Sam, Pippin," Frodo spoke up quietly. Everyone stared at him in surprise; the hobbit hadn't been saying a lot since the Ring was destroyed. His voice sounded somewhat weak but still resolved. "I wonder if I might have a word alone with Legolas."

Sam looked reluctant to leave his master's side, especially in the care of someone he thought was just as frail in a different sort of way, but relented without an argument. "All right, Mr. Frodo," he conceded. "I'll go help Mr. Pippin finish with his packing. Take care, and see if you can't talk some sense into him," he added in a low voice (as if Legolas wouldn't be able to hear him), blinking meaningfully at the elf.

The other two hobbits trudged off, leaving Legolas and Frodo alone in silence for several moments. "Well?" Legolas finally asked. "What do you have to say?" He sucked in some air through his nose and shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Frodo; it's not that I don't enjoy your company. I'm just a little tired of people fretting over me."

Frodo nodded with understanding. "I know how that feels," he commiserated, smiling ruefully. "That's why I thought that you needed some time to yourself. Sam and Pippin mean well but they – especially dear, loyal Sam – don't understand that they aren't able to help the people that they love through certain hurts. You've changed since the beginning of the Quest, Legolas, and I can guess only one reason for it."

"Which is?" asked Legolas a little nervously. Maybe Frodo _had_ figured out that he'd had a relationship with Aragorn. The hobbit was unusually perceptive and seemed to grow wiser after the War.

"All elves fall prey to sea longing sooner or later," answered Frodo sagely. Legolas sent a quick prayer of thanks to Elbereth. The hobbit sighed and clutched something that was pinned under his elven cloak. "Lately I sometimes feel as if I can hear its call too."

"What is that?" wondered Legolas, noticing the odd gesture.

Frodo discreetly looked around to make sure that no one was watching and then pulled the front flap of the cloak back as much as he dared to. This revealed a green gem that sparkled in the sunlight. "Lady Arwen – Queen Arwen, I should say – gave this to me," he half-whispered.

"That belonged to her mother, who received it from _her_ mother Galadriel. Now she's gifted it to you…." His eyes widened as he comprehended the implications of the gift. "And with that she's also given you her place in Valinor."

"I would like to stay in the Shire if I could, but time can't heal all wounds," said Frodo sadly. Hope crept into his expression. "I hear that the Undying Lands of your people are a wonderful place; full of love and bliss, where the hurts of this world become nothing more than powerless memories. I'd like being in a place like that. I think that we both need to find a place like that."

That did indeed sound ideal. So why wasn't Legolas simply putting himself on the next available ship to the Undying Lands? Claiming sea longing would give him the opportunity to hide his pregnancy until he was safely out of Aragorn's grasp and once he was there he knew that he'd never have to face the Man again. Maybe that was what held him back, the notion of sundering himself from his love so completely. Maybe he didn't want to wholly abandon his father and Mirkwood without having the option of going back again. Maybe he didn't want to cut his child off from the chance of getting to know firsthand a part of his culture. Whatever the reason might be Legolas somehow knew that his and his baby's fates were tied to Middle-earth and he couldn't leave it.

"I think," he told Frodo, picking his words carefully, "that we both have longer journeys ahead of us before we can finally rest. Let us hope that in the end we're able to find what we're searching for – some peace at last."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

At last the time to depart came, along with the time to bid goodbye to those who were staying behind in Edoras. Legolas shocked both Arwen and the twins by approaching them immediately after they had positioned themselves on Meduseld's main stairs. "Well, look who's decided to be social again," commented Elladan, his sarcastic joking tone not disguising his underlying relief. His friend had been acting so distant since he found out about Mirkwood's battle damage and he feared that the joyous part of him had faded forever.

"Look who's being lazy," retorted Legolas good-naturedly. "Not only are you not coming with us you're also not even coming off of the stairs to say farewell."

"It's going to be awhile before we see Arwen and Estel after we return to Rivendell," said Elrohir. "Since it's not as if we require Ada's supervision when we travel we decided to accompany them back to Gondor after our troublesome little brother comes back from this final Fellowship jaunt."

"That still doesn't explain why you're staying here and not traveling with Isengard with myself, Aragorn, and the others," Legolas pointed out as a sudden rush of grief passed over him. He knew in his heart that his final goodbye to his childhood friends was imminent and he could do nothing to delay it.

"What, and leave Arwen to fend for herself in an unfamiliar city full of strangers and near strangers?" asked Elladan rhetorically with a shake of his head. "Besides, my brother said it before: this trip feels like a Fellowship thing. We weren't a part of that and we wouldn't dare to push ourselves onto the bond that you all share."

So this was truly it: Legolas couldn't put off saying goodbye to the twins any more than he could in bidding Arwen farewell. Would that the four of them could have one last day together, one that was free of the cares and miseries of recent years! He felt that this would be the final blow in ending his childhood. At least he was getting the opportunity to make sure that he didn't end his relationship with them in a similar way that he'd ended it with their father. "I shall miss you all," he declared, his eyes filling with tears that he wouldn't allow to fall. "I know that I haven't been acting like it lately but I do love you three as much as I could any blood brothers and sister."

"Listen to him," said Elrohir to no one in particular as his voice wavered a bit. "After all of these years he's finally got the formal-but-familiar goodbye down. Your father would be proud of you."

"Isn't it horrible?" chimed in Arwen, not caring that tears were falling freely down her cheeks. How it pained her to leave the life she had before, even when being with her husband was the reason for it! "We can't part company like this! I say we do it the way that we did when we were elflings."

"Sounds like a plan to me," agreed Legolas softly.

They all took one step back and held out one hand each, piling them on top of one another. With their other hands they grasped the shoulders of the person standing next to them. "We part only for now," they declared solemnly in one voice. "But we will hold each other in our hearts until we meet again."

That was supposed to be the end of it but Legolas couldn't resist pulling Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen into one last group hug. "All right," said Elladan after a minute or two. "We really need to farewell Ada and Estel now. Stop monopolizing our time, young greenleaf! Oh, and I'm glad – Legolas, I'm glad to see that you're confronting your emotions so well. It will be fine soon – trust me."

Legolas was not left alone for long after those three moved on. "Was that a formal elven farewell?" wondered Eomer, descending the stairs to speak to the elf.

"Hardly," scoffed Legolas with no malice in his voice. "That was four elflings – children, as you would say – bidding farewell to the past."

"Not an easy thing to do," acknowledged the Man. "Would you mind enduring one more goodbye? I'd hate for you to leave without me wishing you a safe journey."

If only this was truly his last goodbye! "Of course," said Legolas with an indulgent smile. "First bring your right hand to your chest, like this," he added demonstrating.

"What are we doing?" asked Eomer, confused.

"I'll tell you in a moment," promised Legolas. "Now bring the hand out, like this, and grasp my shoulder as I do the same to you." Once they were in position Legolas' smile widened. "This is how elves say goodbye to friends."

"I'm honored that you showed me how to do it," Eomer told him, touched at the gesture and what it meant. "Goodbye for now, Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm, son of Thranduil, one of the Nine Walkers, fierce warrior, he who can kill me before my stroke falls, one who holds his ale quite impressively, and one of the most compassionate and beautiful souls that I've ever met. I hope that our paths cross again one day."

"I would welcome that if it happens," replied Legolas with a touch of wistfulness.

He smiled one more time and walked away, nodding at Gimli as the dwarf crossed his path going in the other direction. "I thought the same thing once that you're thinking right now," Gimli told Eomer, coming up to the Rohirric king's side. "Upon leaving Lothlorien. It wasn't true for me then and there's a chance that it isn't for you now."

Eomer only glanced down at the dwarf for a second. "And what would that be?"

Gimli followed the Man's gaze down to where Legolas was stroking Arod's nose. "That you've looking your last upon that which is fairest."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

In the end the Ents had very little of importance to say. Treebeard seemed pleased that the War had turned out in their favor but cared more about the cleansing of Saruman's filth from Isengard than the happenings of the world outside of his forest. Still, he was a cordial host, offering gracious welcomes to Galadriel and Celeborn and showing genuine happiness over seeing Merry and Pippin again.

Legolas said nothing during the pleasantries and telling of reports from abroad, so focused was he on what he was about to do. In fact, he was barely paying attention to what Aragorn was saying about the Entwives until Treebeard's big, booming voice gave him an unexpected cue to action. "Where are my manners?" asked the Ent suddenly. "You have all come so far so hastily. Would you like to stay at my home for awhile? You could rest, and at the end of it you could pass through Fangorn Forest and thus shorten your trips home."

Everyone else politely declined, citing various reasons, but Legolas nodded his head. "I thank you," he said slowly, turning to Gimli. "Treebeard has given us leave to enter the forest; now, my dear dwarvish friend, the time has come for you to uphold your part of our bargain."

"All right, you mad elf," groused Gimli, unhappy at the prospect of going into Fangorn again. "And so ends our Fellowship! We may see each other from time to time, but I don't think that all of us will be gathered together like this again. Take care, especially you young hobbits! I don't want to have to worry about you anymore."

"May your journeys home prove to be fruitful and the welcome better than you expect," said Aragorn. His eyes shone with tears as he looked at Legolas. "And I hope that you're able to return to the White City soon and often. You – you will always be welcomed there with open arms."

He couldn't do it; leaving Aragorn – all of them – was difficult enough without actually saying goodbye, so Legolas didn't. With the barest of nods he turned Arod and rode into the forest. _'I said farewell to that Man three times,' _thought Legolas stubbornly. _'Once at the encampment, once when I stood aside and watched him marry Arwen, and again when I chose to keep this baby. He can have no more from me.'_

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It was almost a week later when Gimli dashed out of Fangorn Forest so fast that one would think that there was a balrog behind him threatening to set his beard on fire. "Thank Aüle!" he cried, falling gratefully to the treeless ground.

"I guess you were right," observed Legolas nonchalantly as he came up behind him, leading Arod. "Dwarves _are_ natural sprinters."

"Never again, laddie," said Gimli. "The trees are indeed amazing – like none that I've ever seen before – but why did you want to want to go to a place where you're constantly surrounded by things that are whispering so ominously about you? At least good stone doesn't plot against you for having an axe!"

"Poor Gimli," Legolas said to Arod, loosing his packs and putting them down on the ground by his feet. "Fangorn Forest was too much for him. I suppose I should make it up to him for dragging him in there by – I don't know – letting him have you for the ride home."

The horse's ears went back unhappily, knowing that his separation for the elf had come upon him at last. Gimli handled it no better. "I don't want to ride him by myself," he protested. "Besides, we're going the same way; why shouldn't we go together?"

"Please, Gimli," said Legolas, trying to keep the desperateness out of his voice. Arod had to go with the dwarf; he couldn't send the steed back to Rohan or anywhere else without arousing suspicion too soon and he wouldn't be able to take care of him where he was going. "I – I need to go to Helm's Deep before I go home to - to properly memorialize the elves who fell there and I wish to do it alone. Take Arod so that I can be assured that both of you are being looked after."

"If that's what you want," agreed Gimli reluctantly. He accepted Legolas' help in getting into the saddle and gingerly took the reins. "I will not say goodbye to you, laddie. See you later is all that you're going to get from me."

"Safe journey, dear friend," Legolas choked out. "May Elbereth watch over you until we meet again."

"May Aüle do the same for you," replied Gimli and he rode off.

The elf watched until the dwarf was out of sight. The tears were so close to the surface; it would be so easy to let them fall with no one around but he couldn't let that happen. "Goodbye," he whispered to his friends, his horse, his home, his people, his father, and his love.

Picking up his numerous packs he headed back into the forest. _'This is truly a wondrous place,'_ he thought with some measure of contentment. _'Only I would want to spend a long time here so I won't have to worry about other occupants and passer-bys. The trees here have a language of their own and now I will have the chance to learn it – and my baby may just grow up knowing it. I will use the book I found to study how some of the elves of old delivered their babies by themselves and practice the techniques. The Ents can be my eyes during the birth. We will be happy here.'_

It didn't take too long for Treebeard to meet him (Legolas figured that his speedy arrival meant that the Ent had been keeping a watchful eye on him and Gimli during their visit). "Well now, young elf," he boomed. "I told you before that you're welcome in my forest, but why come back so soon?"

"Treebeard," said Legolas as he deliberated carefully over his words. "You know that I respect and love all trees, and am drawn to Fangorn."

"Yes."

"I would – I would like it if I could extend my stay here indefinitely," the elf requested.

"Indefinitely, you say?" asked Treebeard ponderously. "Difficult, difficult, but not impossible. The trees are wild, still distrustful of things that go about on two legs, but you are an elf and they seem inclined to tolerate your presence. You may yet earn their trust, but if you stay you'd have to stay with me or another Ent until that happens."

Legolas glanced down at the packs in his hands that contained all of the belongings that he had as well as all of the supplies he'd gathered ever since he'd decided that Fangorn Forest would be the only place that he could successfully hide his baby. "That's fine with me," he said. "In fact, in about seven month's time I'm really going to need some help…."

To be continued…

_A/N: I do realize that there's a bit of a plot hole in having Legolas go into Fangorn alone, but I need him to go there for the sake of a coming part of the story. I tried to fill in the hole as best I could; now I must ask my good, intelligent, understanding (yes, I'm sucking up) readers to make the necessary leap._


	11. Never enough

_Nine months later…_

The morning in Minas Tirith began as they all had been for many months: with Aragorn in his private office not far off from the throne room, enjoying the only few moments of quiet that he was going to get for the rest of the day. The bolt on the door, firmly and resolutely shoved into place as soon as it slammed behind him, further ensured his privacy, but he really had very little to worry about when it came to people bothering him right then. The official dealings of the court wouldn't start for another hour and the noblemen had quickly come to learn that King Elessar did not like to be disturbed in his solitude with what could easily wait until then. Other citizens of Gondor wanting an audience with him wouldn't dream of being so bold as to demand to see him before their allotted time – the scars inflicted by Denethor's madness were not easily cured and had barely begun to heal at that point. No, they were probably busy readying the various petitions that they wanted him to judge and soon Aragorn would have to face injustices that ran deep and difficult decisions – but not yet.

Best of all, this peace and quiet from the troubles of the court and the people also meant that he wasn't spending this essentially free time with his wife. Arwen was still asleep in their bedchamber and most likely would be for a few more hours if the previous few months were any indication. For all its ridiculous traditions and troubling quandaries, the court basically made it so Aragorn did not have to see his queen at all except for her silent appearances in the throne room during the petitioning, mealtimes, and the night; he only had to tell her that what he did in the morning was political business and she – like the perfect, understanding spouse – made it a point not to intrude. That day, though, he knew that he wasn't going to have to look at her for awhile since she'd temporarily ceased attending all court functions.

The reason for this reprieve was also the reason why Lord Elrond had returned to the White City of Gondor and was now residing in one of the royal quarter's quest chambers: Arwen was now seven months pregnant. It was to be expected, of course, since they had a rather active sex life after the wedding and she was eager to become a mother; but it had come as a pleasant surprise to Aragorn that he was genuinely thrilled by this news as well. He felt some guilt about bringing a child into what he saw as a loveless marriage, and his some reasons for wanting it weren't exactly pure, but he couldn't deny the fact that this pregnancy had been nothing but a blessing in his life so far.

'_Oh, sweet, wonderful child!'_ he thought happily, pausing in the reading that he was doing to jot down another good name he'd come up with for the baby. _'You do my heart much good after it was shattered. You will become the center of my world and – and it will not be just me and Arwen in this sham of a marriage anymore.'_

The child was already playing a major part in Aragorn and Arwen's relationship, as in the physical parts of it was almost non-existent now. They didn't have to conceive an heir anymore, something that the king welcomed since touching her was making him increasingly nauseous. In fact, now that she was in her last months she was no longer comfortable with her body and never requested that he do more than hold her as she drifted off to sleep at night. What Aragorn found most liberating, though, was that she'd gone into her final month's confinement and he didn't even have to worry about accidentally bumping into her at any point in the day. The Man let out a small sigh of contentment just thinking about it.

Arwen hadn't noticed her husband's need to be rid of her as much as possible, but it proved to be a point of contention with their guest. Upon his arrival to the city, Elrond had immediately sensed that Aragorn's giddiness over the circumstances were about more than just the usual new-father-bliss. He hadn't taken kindly to it at all but managed to hold his tongue for almost one day. Choking back what he truly wanted to say, the elf lord had greeted Aragorn fondly and fussed over his daughter and how round she'd gotten before taking a brief rest. Then he examined Arwen to make sure that she was really all right, toured the city's restoration projects, and attended a small but elegant feast that celebrated his arrival. After that he'd retired to the private royal quarters where he and the married couple continued to catch up on each other's lives.

The excitement of the day had gotten to Arwen and she announced earlier than usual that she was going to bed. She'd taken Aragorn's hand but Elrond had stopped her, asking if he could speak to the Man in private about fatherly issues. Arwen had easily agreed and after both of the most important males in her life had bid her goodnight she left. Aragorn, knowing that it would probably be best if they put as much distance between the royal bedchamber and his talk with Elrond as possible, had then led the elf lord to his private off. The ensuing conversation had not been pleasant.

_OOOO – Flashback – OOOO_

_Elrond quietly took in the layout and décor of the small office, trying to compose himself enough to talk rationally while Aragorn closed and locked the door. Hearing the bolt slide into place, he sucked in a deep breath. "I'm very disappointed in you, Aragorn," he finally said, turning around to look at the Man._

"_I don't see what cause you have to be so," replied Aragorn in a flat, dull voice. "Gondor has been saved from the power of Sauron, the realm is quickly regaining the strength it's lost since the golden days, I've accepted my destiny and – from all accounts – have become an excellent king, and Arwen is pregnant and happy. What more do you expect from me?"_

"_You treat her with so much disdain," growled Elrond angrily, fighting to control his volume so that he didn't yell and alert the guards. "How could a child that I raised grow up into a Man who is so unfeeling toward his own wife?"_

"_I treat her with nothing but affection and respect," countered Aragorn through gritted teeth. "If you don't believe that, ask her."_

"_I don't doubt that outwardly you've been the perfect husband, but that is not what I wish to speak to you about," argued Elrond. "Do not forget that I can see your mind and your heart, both of which betray you. You are repulsed by Arwen, by the Evenstar of the elven people and a living image of Luthien herself! I never would have thought that such a thing was possible had I not witnessed it with my own eyes."_

"_Yet I have never neglected my husbandly duties," pointed out Aragorn defensively. He had gone through with every one of those revolting acts and he wasn't about to let anyone, not even Elrond, act like they didn't count for anything. "I've always joined with her whenever she requested it; I have even embraced and kissed her freely. You should commend me for being able to do that, not mocking the effort all of that took on my part."_

_An outraged Elrond gave him a deadly glare. "How dare you speak that way about Arwen?" he demanded fiercely. "_She _is not the one who acted like a needy lover in her dealings with you."_

_A fire blazed in Aragorn's eyes and he got almost nose-to-nose with the elf. "You had better watch your mouth," he warned in a dangerous tone._

"_You are her husband," debated Elrond, though he took a step back and fought to rein in his emotions. He knew that he'd just stepped over the line with that subtle dig at Legolas, and needed to keep it together if he wanted the Man to listen to him at all. "You're supposed to love her above all others."_

_Aragorn's expression was as cold and hard as his voice as he replied: "I don't. I don't love her above all others because I don't love her at all, in any way. I could not love Arwen even if I wanted to, which I don't."_

_Elrond's breaths were coming in deep, furious pants; he continued to remind himself that keeping a certain sense of calmness and rationality would make all the difference in this conversation – and Arwen's future. "You're a fool, then," he declared, "for you've condemned yourself to a long and lonely life. What about her child?"_

"My _child," Aragorn corrected him._

"_You can't seriously expect me to believe that you feel anything for that child when you freely admit that you feel nothing for its mother," scoffed Elrond._

"_I don't care what you do and don't believe," the Man retorted. "That doesn't change the fact that I happen to love my child. Yes, I would have preferred to have the baby with someone else, but what of it? It's not the child's fault that its other parent is Arwen and not Legolas."_

_Was that a flash of guilt in his foster father's eyes? Before Aragorn could examine it more closely or ask about it, the elf lord turned his back on him. "You betray my daughter," he accused in a slow, even paced tone. "Is it not bad enough that you had a couple of innocent indiscretions before your wedding?"_

"_I told you to watch your mouth," said Aragorn resolutely as a genuine hatred for the person in front of him brewed within his stomach. His emotions, so deadened after months of marriage to Arwen, were coming alive again and they were fierce in their wrath. "I will not tolerate you belittling what he and I shared!"_

"_I did not come here to talk about Legolas!" hissed Elrond. "This. Is. About. Arwen."_

"_Fine, then," snapped Aragorn. "But I say that I have never cheated on her. She's the only one that I've joined with since the time that you presented me with Anduril." He couldn't truthfully say 'since the _night_ that you presented me with Anduril since he and Legolas had made love before Elrond's arrival at Dunharrow and Aragorn wasn't about to betray the memory of that by implying otherwise._

"_Your body remains faithful," replied Elrond with quiet disgust, "but your mind and heart are not. They are filled with Legolas even when you touch my daughter. In that way you cheat on Arwen constantly."_

"_If I am unfaithful to anything," said Aragorn in a deliberate voice, "it is to my heart and mind. They hold true to the one that they hold dear when the rest of me has let him go. I betray them every day that I'm with Arwen when I love Legolas – and have been for decades."_

_At this Elrond spun back around. "If that's they way you feel then why did you court my daughter in the first place?" he demanded, his fists clenched and held tightly at his sides. "I cannot believe my ears! You lure Arwen away from the immortality of the elves to keep her here in quiet resentment. You should be ashamed of yourself, Aragorn. I have never been more disappointed in –"_

"_Hold your tongue," ordered Aragorn darkly as he felt himself start to shake with rage. He hadn't been in the mood to listen to his foster father's guilt trips and subtle manipulations for a long time. Everything that he was feeling at the moment had been bubbling below the surface for quite awhile now; now he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold it back any longer. "First of all, I didn't court her out of maliciousness. I tried to love her for all those years and for awhile believed that I'd succeeded. Since you see my heart and mind so well you must have known that I hadn't, and how I felt about Legolas even when I was not; so why then didn't you pull me aside to say something?"_

"_You were an adult, Aragorn," Elrond explained defensively. "You would not have listened to me, nor would you have left her if I'd have advised it."_

"_Because I never did anything that you told me to?" demanded Aragorn sarcastically. He curled his hands into fists and pounded them against his own head. "Why would you think that? I have done _everything_ that you've ever asked me to do! You told me to accept that my name was Aragorn and my lineage that of Isidore's without a fuss and I did. You told me to leave my childhood home and set out into decades of loneliness in an unfamiliar world and I did just that. You wanted me to dedicate my life to overthrowing Sauron and not only did I do that, I also succeeded in my task for the Valars' sake!"_

_He paused momentarily to breathe deeply before plunging back in. "And," he continued on, "I gave up Arwen when you asked me to. Do you not remember, Ada? I told her that our relationship was nothing more than a dream, gave her back her necklace, and all but ordered her to go to Valinor. Just because I wasn't cruel in my rejection of her doesn't mean that I _lured_ her into staying. When a rider sets his horse loose, is it imperative for him to beat the animal in order to make it stay away? Shouldn't a kind but firm farewell suffice?"_

"_Only when the rider doesn't keep the faint promises of carrots and a warm stall dangling over the horse's head," responded Elrond in a terse voice._

_Aragorn clenched his jaw. "I wouldn't talk about dangling promises in front of people if I were you," he said as the pieces to this twisted, heart-wrenching puzzle fell into place and he understood for the first time. "That's what you were really doing, weren't you? You thought that if I had the proper motivation I'd be desperate to rid the world of Sauron. King Thranduil never cared much about the fate of the world of Men and would never offer Legolas up like a treasure to be won even for a cause that he believed in, so you couldn't manipulate my love for him; that's where Arwen came in. You thought that you could dangle the promise of proving myself worthy to be with her in front of me because you never dreamed that _she_ would take our relationship so seriously. You thought that she'd lose interest long before her mortality was in jeopardy and you'd get everything you wanted without having to sacrifice a single thing, save me."_

"_That's not true," whispered Elrond although in his heart he knew that it was, at least in part._

"_Would that your plan had not backfired," lamented Aragorn. "Are you ready to admit now that I'm not _keeping_ Arwen in any way? If she decided to leave right now I'd help her pack her bags and bid her a fond farewell – though we'd probably have words over where our child would live. Finally, I don't care anymore if you're disappointed in me or not. It seems that I can never please you; not even playing a major role in the passing of a great evil, uniting the world of Men, and casting aside everything that makes me happy has made you proud of me. I refuse to try to do the impossible by rejecting my heart's desire on your implication that perhaps that would be enough."_

"_Aragorn…"_

"_I don't want to hear it right now," snapped Aragorn. "You called me a fool before and I admit that I am one. I was a fool to let Legolas go in favor of someone that I could never love in order to try to appease someone who has and never will love me for who I am. It would be further folly to try to eject him from my heart and mind. Legolas is love and life to me, Ada, while Arwen is nothing more than cold emptiness. Were I to give him up completely I wouldn't have a reason to go on. I'm done trying to make you happy."_

_OOOO – End Flashback – OOOO_

He'd stormed out after that, leaving a shaken Elrond behind in his angry wake. The next day Aragorn and Elrond had acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place between them. The Man was by now used to living in his lies and trying to resolve any issues he had with Elrond would only lead to more useless arguing and bitterness. Under the understood agreement that neither of them cared to find the strength to endure another confrontation, they settled into a 'happy family' routine that pleased Arwen and kept her from feeling the need to mediate between them. It wasn't much, but Aragorn was as content as he could be.

His life was pleasant enough – save for the fact that Legolas wasn't in it at all.

Aragorn frowned, placed a marker in his book, and set it aside in favor of staring out his window at the sun. Months had passed since they'd said goodbye (or _hadn't_ said goodbye, as was the case; something that tortured the king daily) and he'd heard nothing from or about the love of his life. While it would be preposterous to expect long, frequent letters – Legolas was undoubtedly heavily immersed in healing the hurts of Mirkwood after the War as well as mindful to respect Aragorn and Arwen's union – not to receive anything from him was unusual and unsettling. Aragorn had been contacted by the rest of the Fellowship: he and Gimli exchanged notes from time to time; the hobbits had sent word that they arrived back at the Shire safely; and even Gandalf included a sentence in a letter from Bilbo (in which the old hobbit apologized for not making it to the wedding). None of them had mentioned anything about Legolas after Gimli recounted their journey in Fangorn and sudden farewell and it made Aragorn uneasy. Why hadn't the elf prince at least sent _something_, just so that Aragorn could have the peace of mind of knowing that he'd gotten home all right?

A knock on the door interrupted his fretting. "It can wait until court begins," called Aragorn, not bothering to get up.

The knock came again, more insistently this time. "I'm sorry, your majesty, but I don't think that it can," replied the voice of one of the guards. Aragorn rolled his eyes, rose to his feet, and made his way over to the door, unbolting and opening it. The guard had enough sense to look embarrassed as he tentatively entered the room. "You're presence is required immediately."

"Are we under attack?" asked Aragorn.

"No, your highness."

"Is the city on fire?"

The guard simply shook his head.

"Is the queen in labor?"

"No, King Elessar."

"Well then," said Aragorn definitively. "I can't think of anything other than those three things that can't wait to be presented to me until the proper time. Leave me."

"But, King Elessar," protested the guard meekly, unused to defying a direct order. "A delegation from the realm of Mirkwood has just arrived. Their leader is requesting to speak to you at once."

Aragorn's heart stopped for a second; then for the first time in almost a year he felt truly happy again. "Legolas," he breathed and bounded out the door. The guard looked on in amazement, having never seen his king react to anyone or anything so enthusiastically before.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It wasn't Legolas that was waiting for him outside by the White Tree, but Legolas' father Thranduil. "Mae govannen, King Thranduil," greeted Aragorn with a formal elvish gesture, successfully hiding his disappointment. "I am honored by your presence. What brings you to this city of Men?"

Thranduil returned the gesture and Aragorn got a really good look at him. The elven king seemed – thin; and was very pale even by elvish standards, save for the pronounced dark circles under his eyes. "I apologize for arriving unannounced," he said in a voice that sounded tense and desperate. "My need to speak with you overcame my sense of propriety. I come in search of my son, King Elessar."

"Legolas?" whispered Aragorn fearfully. "He's not here, King Thranduil. In fact, I haven't seen or heard from him since we parted way about nine months ago. I had assumed that he was in Mirkwood, too preoccupied to correspond."

A look of growing despair and utter worry came to Thranduil's face. "Ai Elbereth," he choked out.

Just then Elrond came running into the courtyard. He'd overheard some guards talking about a delegation that came unexpectedly from the Woodland Realm and assumed that Legolas was a part of it. Ever since his fight with Aragorn he feared that the Man might actually forsake Arwen if he saw his love again and now had hastened out to do some damage control. The last person he expected to see was Mirkwood's king. "Thranduil?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"He's looking for Legolas," Aragorn answered for him with a hard edge in his voice. "Legolas never went back home."

"But he was supposed to!" burst out Elrond. Both Thranduil and Aragorn looked startled and the elf lord struggled to keep his head. "He was quite distraught about – about the attack that Mirkwood suffered in his absence. I thought that Morgoth himself wouldn't be able to keep Legolas away once his obligations to those he'd spent time with during the War were over with."

"Something has happened to him," lamented Thranduil. "I know it. I thought that it was unusual that he hadn't contacted me in so long, but I had no idea how long his business with mortals would last and Legolas tends to get all wrapped up in what he's doing to the point of neglecting everything else. Then a short while ago I sensed that he was in pain, that he was frightened, angry, and alone. I sent people to search for him in Rivendell, and when that proved to be fruitless I came here."

"I'm so sorry, Thranduil," apologized Elrond in a choked voice.

The blonde elf shook his head. "You have no reason to be; I know that you've always done your best to watch over Legolas when I'm not around," he said kindly. Elrond felt his guilt increase infinitely. "When was the last time that either of you saw him?"

"In Isengard," answered Elrond with great concern. Had the grief of losing Aragorn and his child slowly eaten away at Legolas until he finally succumbed to it? "He departed with Gimli the dwarf from there. As far as I know, it was his plan for them to briefly visit Fangorn Forest before he returned to Mirkwood."

Thranduil's face clouded over. "A dwarf?" he asked suspiciously.

"A dear friend," Aragorn informed him, knowing where his mind had gone. "Gimli is more likely to die defending Legolas than he is to do him any harm. I suggest that we contact him to see if he can shed any light on the subject."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The next part of Aragorn's life would be full of miserable heartache and constant worry. Gimli would respond quickly to the request for information, but prove to be of little use to the search. In a wrinkled letter – Aragorn would assume that the paper ended up like that because it had been gripped tightly in a moment of distraught – the dwarf would reiterate everything that he'd said before about the 'dratted forest', the giving of Arod, and their goodbye. He would say in a sentence that was smudged with tears that it had been the last time he'd had contact with the missing elf.

Upon receiving this, the next letter that Aragorn would write would be to Eomer, requesting that Helm's Deep, the surrounding area, and all possible routes between the fortress and both Fangorn and Mirkwood be meticulously searched. Still, no one would have any luck with that; and further inquires to Lothlorien, the Shire, and Rivendell would amount to nothing. In every one of the numerous letters Aragorn would send out he would beg that if anyone knew anything about Legolas' whereabouts, please contact him at once. This would become the standard conclusion to every letter he sent for years to come whether the correspondence had anything to do with the search for Legolas or not.

That night, however, Aragorn was too busy thinking about all of the mistakes he'd made in the past to plan out his search strategy beyond composing a letter to Gimli. Back in his office he sat numbly, holding an old arrow as if it was the most precious thing in the entire world. He would have stayed like that indefinitely but the person softly tapping at his door had other plans. "What?" asked the Man dully.

"It's me, Aragorn," called Arwen sympathetically, her voice a little hoarse from all the tears she'd just cried. "Ada told me about Legolas. Please let me in."

"Do as you will," replied Aragorn as if he couldn't care less. "It's not locked and I won't stop you."

Arwen came inside and shut the door behind her. "Aragorn," she said.

Aragorn didn't look up at her, choosing instead to continue staring at the arrow. "Do you know what this is?" he inquired, making the question sound almost like an accusation. "This is the arrow I used when I hit my first bulls-eye while I was training in Mirkwood. Legolas was so proud that he insisted that I preserve it as a sort of heirloom."

"I didn't know that he was involved that much in your training," commented Arwen.

"He was my tutor," said Aragorn. Valar, he hated the condescendingly sympathetic tone of her voice right now. "He made me a better warrior, a better negotiator, a better friend, a better – well, everything. I'm the best person that I can be when I'm with Legolas."

It hurt Arwen somewhat to hear Aragorn say those things but she reminded herself that her husband was just in shock over his friend's disappearance and didn't mean to imply that anything was lacking in their relationship. "Do not despair, my love," she whispered. "I'm here with you."

Aragorn felt an irrational fury grow within him as his stressed, weary mind forgot that Arwen counted Legolas as a brother and instead perceived a more sinister interpretation to her innocent words. "You could never replace Legolas," he declared angrily, leaping to his feet.

"I wasn't –"

"I'm leaving," interrupted Aragorn abruptly. "Don't bother waiting up for me. I'll be sleeping in a guest bedchamber tonight – I need to be alone."

He stomped out, leaving Arwen feeling more helpless and alone than she'd ever felt before at her inability to comfort the Man she loved.

To be continued…


	12. Steps forward

_About five years after Legolas entered Fangorn…_

A quiet unease had fallen over Fangorn Forest that morning. That in itself wasn't unusual – a similar feeling had come to the forest on that particular day each year for the last five years – but this year was different in that the Ents were finally acknowledging both it and the reasons behind it. _'Which,'_ the Ent Quickbeam mused as he walked briskly between the trees with his companion on his shoulder, _'weren't a complete mystery anyway. It is more than time that we got involved.'_

He couldn't blame Treebeard and the other Ents for being so slow to agree with him; as far as they were concerned the troubles of elves and Men weren't supposed to be their business and if the survival of Fangorn wasn't at stake they didn't want to get involved. There was no threat now but still the current situation was their concern. Five years earlier a certain elf had made this their business when he took up residence in the forest. None of them had really believed Legolas when he claimed that he wished to make his stay there permanent, figuring that he was just tired of the outside world and intrigued by their trees, but now after he'd gone through so much and still remained it was clear to all that the elf wasn't going anywhere. While the Ents like or at least tolerated their respectful guest, other factors in the situation forced them to realize that something needed to change and that needed to happen soon.

For Quickbeam this was made doubly his concern by his travel companion that morning. Frolicking through his branches as he strolled along was Caladel, the baby that Legolas had delivered some months after his arrival to Fangorn. Though Ents generally took a long time to get attached to anyone, Quickbeam – the closest thing that there was to a hasty Ent – had been fond of him since soon after his birth and that feeling had only grown as the boy had. That bond combined with his relative speed (when compared with others of his kind) made Quickbeam the perfect minder for Caladel whenever his father was otherwise occupied. It was his attachment to the boy – who was both an elf and a Man; a well known fact though Legolas rarely spoke about it – that made the Ent both reluctant to do what he knew he had to do and more determined than most to do it.

Had the only issue on those days of unease only been that he needed to care for Caladel then he wouldn't have cared to do anything about it at all. Legolas never required Quickbeam's assistance in that manner often enough for it to become a nuisance, but the reasons why the Ent's help was required on the same day every year had started making him anxious a long time ago. Every spring without fail the elf would become seized with a terrible fit that lasted from the sunrise of one day to the sunrise of the next. Since elves, Quickbeam knew, felt grief more keenly than any of Eru's other children he had come to deduce that Legolas was continuously pained by a loss he'd endured one day in a previous spring.

'_He probably came to Fangorn in the first place to get away from it,' _the Ent rumbled internally. _'But there comes a time when one must move on physically before they can move forward in their other senses. That time came for Legolas a long while ago. I doubt that he's confronted whatever drove him into here and it will start crippling Caladel too if it's not dealt with soon.'_

"Quickbeam?" Caladel's bright voice broke through the Ent's ponderings.

"Yes, little one?" asked Quickbeam.

The boy seemed almost startled. "You heard me that time!" he exclaimed. "I've been talking to you for a really long time but you weren't paying any attention. Very treeish behavior, if you ask me."

"Never lecture an Ent on the behavior of trees," rumbled Quickbeam warmly. "But you have my attention now; what is so important?"

"We're almost to the river," Caladel informed him, gesturing straight ahead. "I can see it now. Can you do the look-out?"

The elfling and his father went to the banks of the River Isen every morning to bathe and collect a day's worth of drinking water. Legolas' strange but hardly unusual fit didn't change the fact that Caladel still needed to do these things and it had fallen to Quickbeam to see to it that this was taken care of. Unfortunately this was as dangerous as it was necessary, as the boy enjoyed swimming and too often swam far enough that he went beyond the boundaries of the forest. A few feet was the farthest he'd ever gone – he'd never been out of Fangorn otherwise and being out in the open like that scared him a bit – but they still needed to practice extra caution lest he or Legolas be spotted by a random rider of Rohan or roaming eored. Thanks to the elf's sharp eyes and the Ents' awareness of their surroundings no being outside of the forest had ever laid eyes on Caladel before and he had never interacted with any of them.

That, however, was all about to change. "Caladel," said Quickbeam as he searched the surrounding areas of any sign of people. When he saw what he'd been half-hoping and half-dreading to see he steeled his resolve. "Do you ever desire to see the world beyond Fangorn Forest?"

Caladel frowned at the odd question. No one had ever asked him anything like it before, nor did they speak much about the topic. In fact, had it not been for the few times he'd spied on the Men who stopped by the Isen at times with their horses he wouldn't have believed that there _was_ life beyond the borders of the forest. "I don't know," he finally answered. "I've never thought about it before, but…well, no, not really. What could I get out there that I don't already have in here?"

"Someone to play with perhaps," suggested Quickbeam. "A child like yourself whom you could run around with and get into all sorts of mischief."

"Ada says that there's no one else like me," replied Caladel in a matter-of-fact voice; "at least no one that we'll ever see."

"Well, what about just someone your own age?" Quickbeam inquired. "Come now, little one: have you never longed for a companion who wasn't your father or an Ent? A playmate that you can climb trees with instead of one who lets you climb him?"

"I climb trees with Ada, and I enjoy climbing you," countered Caladel merrily. "What more could a playmate my own age give me? I haven't had one before and I don't think I'm any worse off because of it."

"But would you _like _one?" Quickbeam continued to press. "Do you miss having a friend who's more like yourself?"

The boy shook his head resolutely. "How can you miss something that you never had?" he asked rhetorically. "I have you, Ada, and all the other Ents and trees in the whole of Fangorn! Why would I need even more friends on top of that?"

It was an innocent question from a naïve child but still Caladel's words made Quickbeam falter for a second. After all, the world outside of Fangorn was full of confusion and pain – Legolas and his grief were yearly reminders of that. The elf seemed to be fine on every other day of the year and Caladel was content in his lack of experience; who were he and the other Ents to mettle in that?

He shook the feeling off quickly. _'Caladel speaks as he does because he doesn't know any better,' _Quickbeam reminded himself. _'Legolas chose this life for the both of them when he was upset and not thinking clearly. Now he needs to regain control of his life because Caladel deserves to know what else could be out there for him besides constant exile here. Do not let your regard for the two of them interfere in what's best for them!'_

"What about family?" asked the Ent slowly. "I know that Legolas has told you that you two have at least one family member who lives beyond the forest. Do you wish, then, that you had more than just your father in your life in that respect?"

"I love Ada," answered Caladel firmly. He wished that he could have added that he didn't care about getting to know the rest of his family but that wasn't always true. Most of the time he didn't think about it; but sometimes his ada got in a strange mood and started telling stories about his life before Caladel was born. It was on those nights when he dreamed about a land in another forest where his brave grandfather was king, a gruff but kind dwarf who looked beyond everything he'd been taught about elves to care about his father, and those cheerful and courageous hobbits who saved the world. This never failed to pique Caladel's curiosity, and the way that Legolas' eyes shone as he told these tales made the boy think that he wasn't the only one who sometimes longed to see any one of them just once.

Legolas never suggested that they go to visit King Thranduil, Gimli, or Frodo, Merry, Sam, and Pippin, though; nor did he ever say anything about inviting one of them to come for a visit. There were reasons why father and son had to stay hidden, even from those who Legolas obviously cared about and missed; Caladel understood that this was so even though he didn't know specifically why this had to be. The whole topic seemed to make his father very sad and the boy, not wanting to cause him any more pain, had never questioned him about it.

No one had ever brought up any of this in the past, not even the more reserved Ents who wouldn't have been entirely unhappy to see the two elves leave the forest once and for all. It seemed strange to Caladel that his closest friend was doing it now. "Why are you asking me all of this?" the boy demanded suspiciously. "Do you know something that I don't?"

"Many things," Quickbeam couldn't help but respond dryly. "You'd have to live a long time before you'll know all that I do now and by then I'll know more and you'll still have much to catch up on."

"I don't mean in general," said Caladel, exasperated. "I mean about me and Ada. You're asking a lot of odd questions."

"Not odd," mused Quickbeam. "They are just questions that you haven't yet considered seriously. You will have to give them honest answers soon enough."

"Why?" quizzed Caladel insistently. "It's not like I'm leaving…that's it, isn't it? Are Ada and I going on a trip? Is that why you're with me today and not him? Is he planning something, for my birthday maybe?"

"I don't know what your father's plans are for your birthday – that's still about eight months away – but the answer to the rest is yes, in a way, and no," replied Quickbeam. "Legolas is in no condition to be planning anything, let alone your journey out of Fangorn."

This conversation was getting odder by the second. "I don't understand any of this," he complained plaintively. "Please tell me what's going on, Quickbeam."

"Your father is ill," replied Quickbeam solemnly. The boy gasped. "Do not be too alarmed, little one; this is just a passing fit, as it has always been. Do you not remember how ill he got last year at this time?"

"Kind of," said Caladel uncertainly, suddenly afraid. He'd been too young to comprehend his father's distress in the years before but last year…. Seeing Legolas writhing in agony, groaning and babbling nonsense had scared him badly; it had been like his ada hadn't even known that he was there. He'd started to scream for help and Treebeard and Quickbeam and responded with uncharacteristic hastiness, escorting the frightened elfling away from his father with just as much speed while Legolas continued to moan and weep. It was then that they had explained that this sort of thing had happened before and would pass soon enough.

That had turned out to be true enough but still Caladel hadn't quite fully recovered emotionally from the experience. "Is he – Ada's sick again, isn't?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yes, little elfling, he is," answered the Ent solemnly as he stared off into the distance.

"And this time he'd not going to get better?" fretted the boy tearfully, trying to imagine his life without his father and almost falling off of Quickbeam in his grief.

"I have no doubt that he'll recover," replied Quickbeam, choosing his words carefully, "but if he continues on as he has been he will never truly get better. I've come to believe, Caladel, that your father came to Fangorn to find healing for his affliction. Most likely he thought that being among the trees that he held in so much reverence would soothe his spirit but now it's plain to see that the forest can do him no more good – if indeed it did any at all. Treebeard and I love you both and want only what's best for you, and we both have concluded that the time has come for Legolas – and you – to start the next part of your journey."

"What journey?" demanded Caladel, not liking the sound of this at all. "I've never _gone_ anywhere outside of the forest in the first place, except –"

Caladel's voice cut off as his sharp ears picked up the sound of hooves pounding against the ground in the distance. There – he could see a whole group of horsemen (an _eored_, if they were the same people that he and his father sometimes saw there) coming straight for the river, close to where the water met the forest. This was usually the point where he and Legolas hid; Quickbeam had to have known this but it was clear to Caladel that the Ent had no intentions of moving.

"Quickbeam," he whispered urgently. "There are people coming. Let me down so that I can find shelter until they leave."

Quickbeam took him into his hands and pulled Caladel off his shoulder enough to look him in the face, but did not place him on the ground. The boy could have sworn that there were tears in the Ent's eyes. "Quickbeam?" he asked nervously.

"You need to go out to the river, Caladel," Quickbeam told him gently. "Get a drink, fill all of the water bottles, go swimming if you wish, and wait. The riders approaching – Men of Rohan, if I see their markings correctly – will be here soon. You need to go to them, little one; and when they ask you who you are, tell them your name and say that your father is ill. Then they will most likely ask you to take them to him and you're going to have to do that, for both yours and your father's sakes."

Now that he knew what was happening Caladel wished that he had never asked. "I don't want to," he pleaded as tears formed in his eyes. "Ada – Ada says that I'm not supposed to speak to anyone without his permission because there are bad things in the world. What if those Men are bad?"

"I will be right here watching over you," promised Quickbeam. "If they have evil intentions then I will stomp on a few and leave the rest to the mercy of the trees. But I don't believe that they will mean to harm either of you. Now swear to me, Caladel; swear to me that you'll do everything I'm telling you to do."

"No," sobbed the boy, the tears falling freely now. "I'd miss you too much, and the other Ents, and the trees. Ada wouldn't want to leave either; this is our home."

"And it will always be here," returned Quickbeam with a kindly firmness. "But you need to see the world outside of Fangorn and Legolas needs help that is beyond what we can give him. The Men will want to take your father to a healer, Caladel, and you will have to go with them."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Elfhelm breathed a sigh of relief when the River Isen finally came into view. It had been a rough few weeks for him and his eored, spent in the northernmost part of Rohan settling disputes between the Rohirric villages there and the Dunlanders. The hurts that the Wild Men had inflicted while under the command of Saruman had been punished but not easily forgotten and this wasn't the first time that King Eomer had been obliged to send some Men out there to keep the peace. For these tired Rohirrim the river not only meant ready access to fresh water; it also meant that they were one step closer to Edoras – and home.

"The river is in sight and straight ahead," Elfhelm called back to his Men.

Murmurs of elation and relief buzzed behind him and his second-in-command, Léod, soon rode to his side, letting out a breath long held as he too saw the flowing waters. "I am glad to see the Isen," said Léod with a wry smile, "but it also pains me to arrive at it so soon in the day! I was hoping that we would be able to make camp by it tonight but now we still have time to rendezvous with Forwin's eored at the Glittering Caves by nightfall. I don't relish the idea of having to sleep so close to a dwarvish settlement."

"The king finds the dwarves trustworthy enough," said Elfhelm with a frown. "They are there with his permission, after all. Do you not trust your king?"

Léod noted the disapproval in his commander's tone. "Of course I do," he replied, feeling rightly reprimanded. "And I trust the dwarves' lord too, for he has already proven himself to be loyal and friendly to our people; but what of the rest of them? I do not mistrust them as I would a potential servant of the enemy but I will still be sleeping lightly tonight."

"Take heart, my friend," said Elfhelm as he gestured for his Men to ride around him to the water. "We still have time to tarry here for a bit. The horses can drink, we can refill our water bottles and even bathe, and when we get to the Glittering Caves later on we can be assured that we're the cleanest ones there."

"Now _there's_ something that I always wanted," quipped Léod dryly.

While Elfhelm's attempt at a joke fell flat with his second-in-command the rest of the Rohirrim made their way to the river's edge. All around Men were jumping enthusiastically into the river or greedily drinking up the water, but one young Rohirrim named Alfmund stayed subdued. The next part of their journey troubled him more than he cared to admit, for it would take him back to Helm's Deep for the first time since the great battle there. Alfmund had been thirteen back then, obliged to fight along with his younger brother. He was still standing when Gandalf came with the future king and reinforcements; his brother had fallen early into the night. Needless to say, that place held a lot of sorrowful memories and he was not eager to revisit it.

Perhaps it was the memory of the Battle of Helm's Deep and recalling the mixture of terror, wonder, and relief he felt when the Huorns finished off the uruk-hai once and for all that made him glance down the river into Fangorn Forest. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Whatever the reason, Alfmund did indeed look and so was the first to spot a rather strange sight: a blonde child, walking out of the forest toward them. Goggling at the apparition, the young Man was further amazed to see that the child had _pointed _ears and so was not a child at all, but a young _elf_.

"My lord!" he called as loudly as he dared, not wanting to frighten the elf in any way. "My lord Elfhelm! Come quickly!"

"Yes, what is…" Elfhelm's voice trailed off when he followed Alfmund's line of vision and laid eyes on the mysterious child.

Caladel was shaking when he finally got close enough to the strangers to speak. He prayed that they didn't notice, but how could they not with them staring as they were? Why did they have to do that? Wasn't it enough that he was farther away from the forest than he'd ever been before and approaching people he'd never before had to interact with? Why couldn't he just run back into Fangorn and let them wonder?

But Quickbeam was expecting him to do this and these Men were supposed to help his father so he had to stay. "Hello," greeted Caladel, darting his eyes nervously between the Men and their horses.

"Hello," stammered Elfhelm, struggling to find the right words as he looked into the child's blue eyes. "I'm – I – I'm sorry, young one, if we disturbed you; I for one was not aware that elves dwell in Fangorn."

"There are only two of us," replied Caladel, stalling. "Me and my father."

"Oh," was Elfhelm's only reply.

This was it; oh how he didn't want to do this! "My name is Caladel," the boy said, feeling lost for one of the few times in his life. "My father is very sick. Could you please help him?"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

'_This,'_ decided Elfhelm with a surprising amount of detachment, _'is probably the worst command decision that I have ever made.'_

Few would argue with that, for after leaving behind the vast majority of his Men and only taking a willing few with him he'd actually _entered_ Fangorn Forest – home to trees that he'd witnessed destroying things that go about on two legs – with naught but a little boy to guide them. Every step he took he could feel the trees watching him and whispering. "I don't care for this at all," he muttered anxiously. "It feels like they're plotting against us."

"Not exactly," Caladel spoke up. "They just don't like you. They've told me what people have done to them. I dare say that if your places were reversed and it was them who attacked your home, took axes to your people, and set you on fire you wouldn't be terribly happy to find them wandering where you live either."

"You – you can understand what the trees are saying?" wondered Alfmund in amazement.

"The forest is my home," replied Caladel wistfully. "I've lived here all my life and grew up listening to their language. They tell me things so that I don't repeat the mistakes made by others that go about on two legs."

Fantastic; now he had to learn that their child guide related more to the whispering, scary trees than he did to the Men that followed him. Elfhelm was about to ask him to translate for them when a low, miserable groan cut through the air. "What was that?" he asked. He immediately had the unsettling thought that it was some other traveler who'd foolishly entered the forest and fell victim to the trees.

"It's Ada," said Caladel, his misery turning to fright. He dashed ahead so quickly that the Rohirrim had a hard time keeping up on the uneven terrain, not stopping until he reached his father. Legolas was sprawled out on the ground with his face buried in his arms. "It's going to get better, Ada," the boy said soothingly as he stroked his father's hair.

"Let me see how bad off he is," said Elfhelm, kneeling down on the elf's other side. Carefully he rolled over the prone body and let out a stunned gasp. "Dear Valar, it's Prince Legolas!"

"_The _Prince Legolas?" marveled Alfmund as he and the others gathered around close. This was apparently the day for surprises.

"Yes – don't crowd him!" Elfhelm scolded them all. He looked across at Caladel with renewed curiosity while the boy whispered to Legolas quietly in elvish. "Do you mean to tell me that your father is Prince Legolas of the Nine Walkers?"

"I don't know anything about this Walker stuff, but Legolas _is_ my ada's name," replied Caladel uneasily. He didn't like the idea that these strange Men knew something about his ada that he didn't and, judging but their shocked but admiring stares, he could tell that this wasn't the only thing. "But none of that's important right now! Can you help him?"

Elfhelm slowly shook his head. "Not if we stay here," he responded, still staring numbly at the reportedly missing prince. "But there are proper healers in Edoras. We shall make haste for there at once. Caladel, gather what you and your father need and come with me."

"But sir!" protested one of the Men. "What about the rendezvous at the Glittering Caves?"

The commander cursed under his breath. "We cannot in good conscience ignore that," he decided, scooping Legolas up into his arms. The elf prince didn't seem to weigh anything. "Nor can we leave Prince Legolas in this state. Therefore Léod will lead you on to the rendezvous and I will care for him. I can make it back to Edoras faster alone anyway."

"What about the boy, sir?" asked Alfmund in a lower voice, glancing discreetly at Caladel as the elfling hastily went about stuffing things into worn-looking packs. "All three of you can't fit on one horse and he should not be separated from his father. Allow me to volunteer to accompany you and bear Caladel on my steed."

"Very good," nodded Elfhelm.

Legolas stirred in his arms, groaning dark tidings of loss and heartache and mumbling something that sounded like, "two minutes." Elfhelm's heart lurched; the elf didn't sound good, and he was very pale and light as a feather. It was clear that he needed help right away. If they hurried out of the forest and pushed the horses to their limit they _might _reach Edoras before the next day. He could only hope that the healers there would know how to tend to an ill member of the Eldar race.

To be continued…

_A/N: I have a map of Middle-earth and I know that it's probably not feasible to get from Fangorn to Edoras in one day but that's what suits my needs and that's how it's going to be._

_Some meanings for the new names: Caladel – 'light of an elf'; Léod – I don't know but it was in the appendices under the section about Rohan; Alfmund – 'elf protector' or else 'protection of elves'; and Forwin – I'm not sure. I found it on the same Anglo-Saxon name website that I found Alfmund on but I can't piece together a probable interpretation. All I can tell is that it means is someone's friend ("-win" means 'friend')._


	13. Making an entrance

That night the guards positioned outside of the gates of Edoras were luckier than they usually were. That particular duty too often entailed many long and lonely hours in almost no light at all, but now as the hours passed the two guards enjoyed different sources of illumination. Several fair-sized torches, well placed and evenly spaced, stood along the walls of the city while the moon was full and seemed to be shining out as if it were the sun. No one became a guard of Rohan if they feared the dark but even the hardiest warrior preferred to go about in the light and the guards Cynwulf and Wifrun were no exception to that.

Not that they had any practical use for the extra light. They'd been on duty for many hours and had not seen anything even threatening to stir all night. That was perfectly all right with Cynwulf, the older of the two. In his long years he'd witnessed the deaths of kings and heirs, the near-destruction of the Rohirric way of life, the realm under attack from forces both without and within the lands, and more trouble and heartache for any one lifetime. As far as he was concerned, after having to bury more than his fair share of friends and family – especially in the recent past – the sometimes dull peace and quiet was just fine compared to what could happen.

Unfortunately his comrade-in-arms was not of like mind. Glancing discreetly over to watch the young Man twitch for the countless time that night, Cynwulf was torn between annoyance at Wifrun's impatience, nostalgic understanding as he remembered his own days as a young soldier, and a sarcastic smugness that all members of the older generation had when they encountered the annoyed eagerness of the young. The boy – he could call him that since Wifrun was the same age as his son – was anxious to prove himself and bored out of his skull as he waited for an opportunity to do so to present itself. It was that kind of attitude that turned brave young Men into brave dead Men and Cynwulf didn't like the idea of getting caught up in the impulsive mistakes of his enthusiastic partner.

Watching the young Man's hand dance around the hilt of the sword strapped at his side, Cynwulf repressed a sigh that could only come from an experienced person when faced with as much utter naïve bravado that the younger generation could give. "There's nothing out there," he offered in way of advice. "Don't waste your time and energy being so on edge. You're more liable to overreact when the time comes if you spend all your time just itching for it."

"But it _never_ comes," complained Wifrun petulantly. The older Man fought the urge to see if a well-placed smack upside the head would knock some sense into him. "I need to see some action soon! By the Valar, if all I do is stand all night I'm going to forget every skill that made me a soldier in the first place."

"That's why we're all encouraged to _practice_," Cynwulf reminded him with wry sageness. "That allows us to keep our skills fresh; and making the mistakes that everyone makes in that setting allows you to learn from them. If you only fight in battle you're going to end up getting yourself killed."

"You know what I mean," groused Wifrun. "Please don't lecture me tonight. Even you must admit that no one has ever been renowned for their splendid, noble practicing! And practicing is all I've ever done, too; oh, curse the illness that kept me cowering the caves at the Battle of Helm's Deep!"

"You didn't miss anything there," said Cynwulf in a hard voice, remembering the bitter pain of that terrible battle. While he could see why Wifrun felt slighted – almost all of the other guards his age had the bond of fighting there – he couldn't stand the idea that anyone might look back upon that night and childishly complain that they weren't allowed to 'play' soldier.

"I missed my chance to prove my worth," returned Wifrun, punctuating his sentence by actually stamping his foot. He was too caught up in his sense of injustice to notice the older guard's grunt of disbelief. "But that can change tonight. Maybe there are some orcs out right now; what do you think the chances are that they will attack the gate?"

If even one orc came that night Cynwulf had no doubt in his mind that the first thing that Wifrun would do was wet his breeches. "Slim to none," he replied, coughing a little in an attempt to hide the fact that he was choking on laughter at the thought of the look on the young Man's face if what he predicted came true. "There are few left. King Eomer and King Elessar have done much to drive that foul species out of existence since the end of the War. Whatever ones are left wouldn't dare attack a well-defended city."

"But orcs aren't exactly known for their rationality and good judgment," said Wifrun.

Was that hopefulness in the young Man's voice? Valar, he really _did_ need some sense smacked into him. "Is that how you plan to gain some renown?" Cynwulf asked sharply. "Killing a foolish and disoriented orc?"

Wifrun had the good grace to look ashamed. "No sir," he mumbled. "I just want my chance to prove my worth to the king."

"And it will come soon," Cynwulf told him firmly. "It's been very quiet since the end of the War and I have a feeling that we're due for some action soon. Trouble that comes on its own is enough to deal with as it is; don't start inviting –"

Whatever scolding disguised as advice that was coming next died on the older guard's lips. The change that came over his body was truly remarkable for Wifrun to behold: every muscle in his body seemed to tense as if he was about to spring into battle, his ears visibly perked up, and his eyes became hard and searching. One hand crept to the scabbard of his sword to steady the blade while his other one moved to the hilt in one smooth motion. "Be silent," Cynwulf ordered even though he was technically the one who was last talking.

"What is it?" asked Wifrun with gleeful excitement, for it seemed to him as if the chance to prove himself was upon him at last. "Is it orcs? Raiders? Wild Men? Are we –"

"Shhhhh!" Cynwulf practically spat. His eyes were almost spinning in his head as he scoured the landscape. "There's – there is something coming, and I don't know what it is. There's a strange light bearing down toward us from the north. Look!"

Wifrun obeyed and indeed he saw the light. "It looks like it's got two sources," he noted in a hissing whisper. "One appears to be smaller and less brilliant than the other, but there's definitely two. They just came over the horizon, right?"

"Indeed," said Cynwulf distractedly, straining his eyes so much that they physically hurt from the effort. "But I don't see what could be making it. There are no torches or anything else with flames, nor does it appear to be weapons reflecting in the light of the moon."

"If such a thing would ever shine so brightly," observed Wifrun. "Though it does remind me of the moonlight. I've never seen anything like it before. What should we do?"

"Blow your horn," replied Cynwulf, not taking his eyes off of the mysterious sight. "Send out the signal to the king and everyone else that something that might be trouble is happening. Then we stand our ground: whatever it is, there appears to be only two of them and they're heading straight for us. We are guards of Rohan, Wifrun; and we have a duty to attend to."

Starting to really regret his eagerness to see some action, Wifrun brought his guard horn to his lips and blew; first a high note, then a low one, and ending by going into a high register again. _'That is sure to get the attention of any Rohirrim within listening distance,' _he thought resolutely. Indeed even the oncoming horses seemed to hesitate a little as the sound broke through the night air.

With nothing left to do was wait, and young Man drew his sword and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cynwulf. As he felt the childish eagerness seep out of his body he steeled himself to prove his worth to his comrades and king no matter what.

_OOOOOOOOOOOO_

A distinct horn cry in the not-so-far-off distance brought chills to the spines of the three of the four weary travelers who were in any condition to hear it. It made little Caladel jump and gape in wonder – it sounded a bit like an Ent's call. But it was not comforting, for it sounded like something less; like it was used to communicate something without being sophisticated enough to actually mean words. He remembered the time that Treebeard once told him a horrible, frightening story about a terrible Enemy who mocked the Ents and elves by creating twisted images of them in living things.

'_Maybe I shouldn't have trusted these Men,'_ the boy fretted, getting more and more scared as they got closer to where the sound was coming from. _'No matter what Quickbeam said, he couldn't have known all that much about them.'_

Meanwhile Alfmund, who was bearing the elfling in front of him, let out a put-upon groan. "Wonderful," he called sarcastically to Elfhelm. "Do you know how long I've wanted to hear the sound of a Rohirric horn in the wind? Why did it have to be that one? After a full day's run with one the briefest of stops for our horses to refresh themselves we're going to be greeted at the gate by a host of soldiers."

"Not a _host_," argued Elfhelm with a little bit too much hopefulness in his voice to be reassuring. "That wasn't the call that danger was at hand; it just means that it would be advisable for the king and guards to be ready for anything."

"That's not much different from _danger_," groused Alfmund. "Oh Valar; I was looking forward to indulging in some food, drink, and rest and now we may have to do battle with our own people."

"Battle!" exclaimed Caladel in alarm. He looked helplessly over at his ada, whose eyes were closed. It had been like that all day, and he had spoken no words except for the occasional painful groan about loss. Legolas would be in terrible trouble if he was forced to defend himself that night – Elbereth, it was only because of Elfhelm's hold that the elf was able to stay on the racing horse as it was. Now there was going to be _fighting_?

"This was a bad, bad mistake!" the boy lamented. "How can the outside world be any safer than home? I don't want to go to Edoras anymore; take me and Ada back to Fangorn now!"

"There's nothing to be concerned about, Caladel," said Elfhelm reassuringly as he sent Alfmund a withering look over the young one's head. "We aren't going to have to fight anyone."

Caladel wasn't placated at all; why should he trust these Men to tell him the truth? "Then why did Alfmund say that we would?" he demanded obstinately.

"Because he's overreacting," the commander explained in the gentlest tone possible. "You heard the horn just now, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's one way that we Rohirrim signal over distances that something – ah – unfamiliar is amiss. It's just a way for us not to be caught off-guard; that doesn't mean that we're about to be attacked in any way."

Caladel watched in horror as more fires started going up on the great wall before them. This apparently hostile reaction to their arrival combined with his first intimidating sight of people-made houses and buildings wasn't helping to comfort him. "I don't like this," he cried nervously. "Where – where are the trees? Why are there so many buildings?"

"It's going to be all right, Caladel," murmured Alfmund soothingly.

"No, it's not!" replied the boy in fright. "They're getting ready to hurt us right now! Why else would they use that stupid horn call?"

"Because no one is supposed to be returning until late tomorrow afternoon at the earliest," answered Elfhelm, mindful to slow the speed of his horse as the gates loomed closer ahead. He caught Alfmund's eye, who immediately followed suit. "And anyway, it is not our custom to journey so late at night unless great need spurs us on. Therefore, the guards outside the gate can't be sure about who's approaching and it's better to give a warning under those circumstances than not and curse that choice later."

"Will we really be all right?" asked Caladel in a small voice.

"No one is going to harm you or your father unless they step over my dead body to do so," swore Elfhelm. He managed to give the boy a little smile as the two figures of the gate guards came into focus. "You see, Caladel," he added, "there's no host out here to fight us; just two valiant and understanding guards."

Cynwulf and Wifrun had not been idle during the last leg of the riders' journey. They stood now squarely in front of the entrance to the city with their weapons drawn and their faces grim. "In the name of King Eomer of Rohan," shouted Cynwulf, squinting at the people on the horses that were coming toward them at a reduced by still quick rate, "I command you to halt, identify yourself, and tell us your business!"

"Three of our names are already known to you," Elfhelm said, moving his steed forward enough so that his face was in as much light as it could be. By then he was almost standing beside the guards. "And I will swear on my honor that the fourth is no threat to you or Rohan."

"My lord Elfhelm? Alfmund?" asked a perplexed Wifrun. "What are you two doing here? No one from your company was supposed to return from Helm's Deep until tomorrow!"

"And where is the rest of your company anyway?" added Cynwulf.

"They're at Helm's Deep," replied Alfmund almost flippantly.

In Elfhelm's saddle Legolas stirred, though only in response to his own dark dreams rather than what was going on around him. "Le abdollen," he moaned softly, lost in a memory. Only the commander heard him.

"But why –" Wifrun's question trailed off when his brain finally registered the strange creature that sat in front of Alfmund. "Bless us!" he exclaimed in excitement and wonder. So that was the source of one of the lights. "That's an elf child, unless my eyes are playing tricks on me! Cynwulf, come take a look at this!"

Caladel bristled and glared at the rude Man. "_This_ has a name," he snapped, more sure than ever that he wasn't going to enjoy his stay in Edoras at all. "You'd better be nice to us or else I'll set the trees of Fangorn on you! Don't think that I can't – they taught me and Ada their language and they like us more than they will ever like you."

"What's an ada?" asked Wifrun suspiciously as images of the blonde, pointy-eared child leading a horrible army of killer trees came unbidden into his mind.

While his counterpart was being intimidated by a four-year-old, Cynwulf was too wrapped up in staring in disbelief at the other horse's elvish rider to pay attention to Caladel and Wifrun's exchange. "Dear Valar," he breathed at last. "Is that – is that Prince Legolas?"

_The_ Prince Legolas; one of the Nine Walkers, hero of the War, and so on? "Amazing!" cried Wifrun, studying the elf's face carefully. "This night keeps getting stranger and stranger. What's he doing here? Why is he sleeping now?"

"We found the prince and his son, Caladel here," said Elfhelm, nodding to the elfling, "in Fangorn Forest early this morning after Caladel approached us on the River Isen with a tale about his ill father."

"You rode all that way in one day?" Cynwulf marveled. "It's a wonder your horses haven't collapsed!"

"We wouldn't have pushed them so much but the need was dire," spoke up Alfmund. "We could do nothing to help the prince. He's been talking a little, mostly nonsense, but has yet to regain consciousness. We must get him to a healer at once!"

"Oh no," breathed Wifrun.

"I don't know if any healer in Edoras will have the skill to help him," said Cynwulf doubtfully. "It might be best if we contact one of the elven settlements, like Rivendell, to see if they have a healer that they can spare. Maybe we could even contact Minas Tirith to see if King Elessar can recommend anyone from there – the healers of Gondor must know more about elven bodies and illnesses by now."

Alfmund nodded distractedly. "I'm sure that, if we had the time, that would be the right course of action," he agreed. "But Prince Legolas cannot wait for anyone else to come, nor can he endure any more riding right now. Our healers here are far from ignorant and they will have to do."

"And besides, Edoras' healers are probably already up and close at hand," concurred Cynwulf. "That horn blast will have roused the entire city. You may go ahead with all haste; and we wish you all the best of luck at Meduseld." Sucking in a deep breath, he let out the loudest bellow possible: _"Open the gates and make way!"_

_OOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eomer paced all over the stairs that led up to Meduseld as he waited for…something. The warning signal had woken him up long before one of his guards burst into his bedchamber (apparently wanting to see if his king was deaf; how could anyone _miss_ something so loud?). He'd thrown on the most convenient set of garments within reach and rushed outside to assess the situation while most of the Men who were supposed to be protecting him were even figuring out what was going on.

Not that he could claim to know much more than they did. No more horn blows had come after the first one, although many curious and anxious people had emerged from their homes and were now lining the streets. Their murmurs grew louder when the order came for the gates to open a few seconds before the large doors swung inwards and two horses came trotting in. Usually this would be a good sign – the gate guards obviously found nothing wrong with the unexpected newcomers; Eomer just wished that he knew how to interpret the buzzing of voices that was coming from the people as the horsemen passed them by.

He figured out the reason for them as soon as the four newcomers came into his sight. "My king," greeted Elfhelm solemnly. "We apologize for the disruption that our arrival has caused, but –"

"_Legolas,"_ breathed Eomer, not hearing a word that his trusted commander was saying. Indeed he simply forgot that there was anyone else around once he'd set eyes on the fair face of the long-missing prince.

Eomer practically stumbled down the steps and surprised everyone by carefully pulling the elf down into his arms. "Gimli was right - I had not looked my last upon you," he whispered softly as he took in Legolas' appearance. Closed eyes – wasn't it supposed to be bad if an elf closed his eyes? – and beautiful features that were etched with a deep pain. A fierce protectiveness seized him and he glared accusingly at Elfhelm. "He's hurt. How did it happen and who did it to him?"

"We're not sure, sire," answered Elfhelm, a bit taken aback by his king's reaction to Legolas' condition. He knew that they were on friendly terms before the elf vanished but he never guessed that they'd been that close. "This is how we found him; or rather, how he was when Caladel led us to him."

"Caladel?" asked Eomer distractedly.

"Me." Eomer looked up to where that young, wary, protective voice was coming from and almost reeled at the sight of a copy of Legolas in the form of a child – or elfling. "I'm Caladel and that's my father that you just grabbed so rudely. Either you get him some help right now or else let him go so that I can take care of him myself."

There was a gasp of 'disrespectful boy!' in the crowd but Eomer didn't pay attention to it. He was too busy wrapping his mind around what the boy's announcement meant: first of all, the shocking revelation that Legolas had a child; and that, with a child, Legolas must have a wife or lover. Eomer's heart twisted a little at thinking about the elf with someone else but he shook it off; there was no time for him to regret what had never been and would never be. "I promise that he will have the best care that I can provide for him," he vowed in a slightly shaking voice. "Gamling!"

The king's right-hand Man quickly stepped forward. "Yes, your highness?" he asked properly.

"Send for the healers at once," ordered Eomer. "Explain the situation to them as best you can and direct them to – um –"

Where exactly were Legolas and his son supposed to stay? "We have quite a few nice quarters for honored guests," Gamling reminded the king.

"None that are readily prepared," fretted Eomer.

"Well, only the royal quarters are cleaned to be used at a moment's notice," pointed out Gamling. "Don't worry about it, King Eomer; I'm sure that Prince Legolas will be fine in whichever –"

"Good idea," Eomer cut him off. "We should settle them into one of the royal quarters. Send the healers there."

Gamling looked positively scandalized. "But –"

"Yes, very good idea indeed," declared Eomer as he turned to trudge up the staircase. "None of the guest quarters have more than one bedchamber but all of the royal suites do. Under the circumstances I believe that Legolas will need an extra bedchamber. It's about time that those rooms had some life in them again anyway."

With a curt nod, Eomer started to charge upwards. "This is highly irregular!" blurted out Gamling after him.

"Wait!" cried Caladel at the same time. The idea of being left among strangers, separated from his father, scared him badly. Besides, he wasn't sure if he was ready to trust any of these Men yet, especially the one who was handling Legolas in such a familiar way. What if this king was only pretending to like his father and really wanted to hurt him when there was no one else around? "Don't you take my Ada away from me! It's me and him, always – us against the world, like he says! You can't change that now!"

"Of course," said Eomer, halting and turning his head back to look at the boy sympathetically. "I apologize, Caladel; this must have been a traumatic enough day already without being parted from your father now. Follow me and I'll make sure that you both get settled in. Elfhelm and Alfmund, see to your horses and refresh yourselves. Gamling, you have your orders. Everyone else, the excitement is now over – go back to your homes!"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

As Legolas and Caladel made their entrance in Edoras, the company that had split up after the two elves had been discovered finally arrived at the rendezvous spot. Admittedly, they should have arrived much earlier but it had been jarring to be separated from their appointed leader and, quite frankly, the second-in-command Léod hadn't been in that much of a hurry to deal with a settlement full of dwarves.

He was regretting his slow pace now, though. Léod cringed internally at the sight that greeted him when they got there: three rather annoyed and agitated dwarves were busy interrogating an almost crazed looking Rohirric captain. "Where have you been?" demanded the captain Forwin, forgoing the usual greeting and pleasantries. Léod couldn't blame him; he probably would have reacted the same way if he'd been left alone with three dwarves – even if one was familiar to them – for so long.

"This lateness is an insult!" boomed one dwarf.

"I'm sorry," Léod apologized profusely. "We were delayed at the River Isen outside of Fangorn Forest, at which point our commander and another of our company had to break from us and depart for Edoras at once."

"We've not heard of any ill news coming from Edoras," noted the second dwarf suspiciously. He turned to the third dwarf. "It sounds as if these Men couldn't be bothered to keep their word to our people, my lord."

Léod looked imploringly at the third dwarf, Lord Gimli of the Glittering Caves. "I beg for your permission to explain the situation fully, master dwarf," the Man said with a bow. "I believe that you'll excuse the impropriety of our late coming after you hear the whole story."

"Let's hear it, then," said Gimli.

"You see," said Léod, "the reason for our late arrival and our commander's absence is of great interest to you personally…"

To be continued…


	14. Gaining trust

"No!" shrieked Caladel stubbornly, his young voice riddled with panic and his eyes filled with a fear that was becoming all-too-familiar. Frantically he turned his back on the two terrible Men that he was certain shouldn't be there in the first place and fell down onto the bed next to Legolas. His cries of protest continued on full-force as he clung to his father. "No, no, no, no, no, no, _no_! I won't let you take me away from him, or him away from me! You don't have a right to!

The more familiar of the two Men – the one that had grabbed Legolas off of Elfhelm's horse, the king – stepped forward, looking like he didn't quite know what to do. "Caladel –"

"_NO!" _screamed the boy, though his head was buried in his father's side and his voice was muffled. "Go away; go away, please! Or let us go away! I don't want to be here anymore; I didn't want to leave home at all; I just want for me and Ada to go home!"

The other Man, whom Caladel hadn't yet realized was Rohan's best healer, stood as still as he could at the foot of the bed, staring aghast at the hysterical elf child. He still couldn't for the life of him figure out how he came to be in such a strange situation. The night had begun as it usually did with him going to bed; but then he was disturbed first by a horn blow and then by Lord Gamling demanding that he go to the royal quarters at once. After a few minutes of wandering around to find the right chambers he had found himself in the larger of two bedchambers in a suite a few doors down from King Eomer's, where he was stunned to find the missing Prince Legolas tucked under the covers. The king had been in there too, pacing, and the child called Caladel had been standing by his father's side, holding his hand – quietly.

The healer moaned internally. The situation had seemed under control when he arrived a few minutes or so earlier – unusual perhaps, but not immediately dire. Then, after speaking quietly to King Eomer to get a better understanding of the situation, he had made the horrific mistake of suggesting that perhaps it would be better if the king escorted the boy out of the room while he conduct his examination of Prince Legolas. This was standard practice that saved the healers from distraction while protecting the children from seeing anything traumatizing if something went wrong, but apparently it was too much to ask of the already frightened and exhausted child. The ensuing breakdown and tantrum had come almost instantly and at such a high volume that the healer wouldn't be at all surprised if the hobbits in the Shire had heard it.

As hot tears began to stream down Caladel's face amidst his screams the bewildered healer turned to Eomer. "I don't know much about elvish cultures," he said meekly. "Do you know if I said something offensive or inappropriate?"

Eomer simply shook his head. "I don't know," he said, sounding just as uncertain as the healer had. Seeing that Caladel wasn't looking directly at them he took a deep breath and chanced walking forward again. When he got to the side of the bed directly behind the boy without eliciting any more screams the king took an even bigger risk by placing a gentle hand on Caladel's back. "Caladel –"

"_Don't!"_ shrieked Caladel, terrified when he realized how close he'd let the stranger get to him. He lashed out wildly with his feet and fists, trying to make this king go away. Eomer jumped back quickly and so was only grazed in the cheek by the boy's small fist. "I know what you're trying to do! You're going to take me away from my ada and we'll never see each other again. Just leave us alone…"

"I would never do anything that mean," said Eomer in his calmest tone as he lowered both his vocabulary and his height down to the child's level. He made sure never to break eye contact with Caladel as he continued. "I promise you that neither I nor any Man who is under my command will keep you away from your father when you want to be with him. May the Valar strike me dead if I'm lying to you."

"I don't believe you!" cried Caladel. The fear of being forcibly kept from his father was too ingrained in him to find any comfort in Eomer's vow. "You're going to take me and I'm never going to see him again. Ada knows this – he's had nightmares about it all my life, what would happen if we went into the outside world. You can't lie to me – I heard him tell Treebeard all about it!"

"Treebeard?" Eomer was flabbergasted. "Are you telling me that you two lived in Fangorn Forest?"

"We did, and I wish that we were still home right now!" shot back Caladel. "Treebeard wouldn't let you take me away from Ada; he promised Ada that he would squash anyone who tried to do such a mean thing."

Eomer wasn't troubled as much by the thinly veiled threat of literally becoming nothing more than a stain on the earth than he was about the implications this new information had about the boy's background. It sounded as if he'd never been out of Fangorn before, living there with only his father, the Ents, and the trees for company, and harboring a deep fear about all the bad things that could happen to him outside of the forest's borders. This did not bode well for gaining the elfling's trust anytime soon and Eomer wasn't sure that Legolas could afford the delay in his care. "What can I do to make you believe me?" he begged.

The boy just stared back defiantly at the king in response and said nothing. Eomer glanced over at the healer, who could tell in an instant that his king was at a loss about what else he could do next. Well, seeing that his suggestion had started this whole mess the least that he could do was try to fix it. "Young Man – I mean, young elf," stammered the poor healer awkwardly. Caladel's glare was so intense that for a moment the healer wondered if he really _had_ done anything terrible to deserve it. "No one here wishes to harm you or your…ada. He is held in high regard here. Please believe that neither I nor King Eomer –"

"Eomer?" asked Caladel suddenly, seeming very surprised. He burrowed his brow as his eyes darted back and forth between the two Men.

"_King_ Eomer," the healer automatically corrected him.

Both Men held their breath, wondering if that gentle reprimand would trigger another tantrum but the boy thankfully remained relatively calm. "I know that," snapped Caladel crossly, obviously offended that a stranger would have the nerve to feel comfortable enough to correct him. "I _do _listen to my father's stories about the outside world, you know. He's in some of them, in the ones that Ada usually tells me after we see the horses by the river. I just called him Eomer –"

"Because that's what Legolas usually calls him," broke in Eomer. He silently thanked Legolas and the Valar for giving him the perfect opportunity to gain the boy's trust. He only hoped that this wouldn't backfire as well. "And that's because your ada knew him before you were born; and one day after the War King Eomer asked Legolas to stop calling him by his former title."

He at least had Caladel's attention. The boy was still glowering, of course, but Eomer could tell that he was also curious in spite of himself. "How could you possibly know that?" demanded Caladel.

"Because I am King Eomer," the king told him soothingly.

Caladel was miffed that this strange king would use his father's stories to lie to him. He rolled his eyes and started to turn away, but the pleading tone in the Man's voice made him pause for some reason. "Caladel, please; I'm telling you the truth. I'm Eomer; and years ago your father told me that he would only call me Eomer if I would return the favor by calling him Legolas. I know your father and have held him in my – in the highest regard since the time right after the War."

"Why should I believe you?" Caladel as ked him, still defiant but wearing down faster than he would have liked. The day of riding, screaming, and the emotional trauma of leaving the forest to come to the unfamiliar Mannish settlement had taken its toll on his energy. All he wanted to do was curl up next to his ada and go to sleep but he knew he couldn't do such a thing yet. After all, the reason they'd left Fangorn in the first place was so that Legolas could get some help; and Caladel knew better than to go to sleep with so many untrustworthy strangers around. However, if this Man really _was_ Eomer and he _could_ be trusted…

Eomer could see that his defenses were waning but not yet gone. He searched his memory quickly for any more proof that he could offer up to assure Caladel that he'd known Legolas before. "When we said goodbye," he blurted out. A huge relieved smile broke out across his face. "Caladel, when Legolas told me goodbye before he went into Fangorn he taught me the way that elves say goodbye to friends. We touched our palms to our chests and then grasped each other's shoulders."

There was a long pause during which Eomer dared to do nothing but hold his breath. "He told me that," Caladel finally said. "That's not just a goodbye; it's how friends say hello too, and all sorts of other stuff too. It's more about being friends than about saying any one thing."

"In that case I'm even more honored that Legolas showed it to me," said Eomer. He felt a strange thrill go through him as he thought about how on that day of parting the fair elf was really telling him how much he'd come to like him.

The Man's cheeks flushed when he realized that he was thinking like a foolish youth with a puppy crush and internally shook away the silly musings. He didn't yet have Caladel's trust and he needed to focus on gaining that. "Caladel," he said sincerely, "I would never do anything half as cruel as take you away from him. Did he ever say anything that made you think I would in his tales?"

"I – I – I," stammered Caladel shakily, his struggle over whether or not to trust Eomer making him more confused than he'd ever been in his life.

Eomer just looked at him patiently. "I don't want to leave him," the boy confessed brokenly. "I've hardly ever been without him and now that we're here…"

"Ah," said Eomer with a knowing nod. "You're in a strange place full of strangers and the only person here that you know is sick. I was once in a very similar position, when my sister and had to come to this very place to live with my uncle after we lost our parents. I'd never been so scared in my life before then and all I could think about was trying to protect my sister from anyone I thought would take her away from me too. I remember how awful that was; I imagine you're feeling quite the same way now."

"We take care of each other," explained Caladel in a small voice. "I can't just leave him and he wouldn't want to do the same to me. Why do you want to make me do that?"

"That's the usual way we do things around here," replied Eomer, his eyes full of kind understanding. "But just because that's what we usually do doesn't mean that it's what we always have to do. If you feel that you can't leave your father even for a short time then you'll simply have to stay in here during the examination."

Caladel's eyes brightened and Eomer knew that he'd succeeded. "Can't we compromise, Caladel?" he asked. "You get out of the bed so that the healer has some more freedom to examine your father, but you only have to go so far as the chair right next to it. Is that acceptable?"

Slowly, hesitantly, the boy nodded.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"I'm sorry," apologized the healer profusely after he gave the king and Caladel his final findings. "Men don't experience whatever it is that is afflicting Prince Legolas and I simply don't know enough about elven anatomy to be of much use here. He's not dehydrated or malnourished, but that's all I can state for a fact. I wish I could tell you something more specific but this is beyond my skills."

"You did your best and are dismissed with my gratitude," said Eomer wearily. "Get some rest now."

After the Man left Eomer sighed and rubbed his palm against his forehead. Now what? He supposed that the next logical step would be to contact an elvish healer but it would take weeks for one of them to get to Edoras. After all they'd put the boy through they ended up not doing anything that helped his father at all. "Thank you for your patience," he said to his young companion. "I just wish – Oh Caladel, you two probably would have been better off if almost anyone else had found you for all the good we've done here."

Caladel surprised Eomer by rising from his position on the edge of the bed by Legolas' side to walk over and place a tentative hand on the Man's shoulder. "It's – it's all right, I guess," the boy said with a fair degree of kindness. "I don't think that Quickbeam was talking about seeing a healer when he said that Ada needed more help than the trees and Ents could give him." He looked sadly back at the bed. "This sort of thing has happened before."

"Really?" wondered Eomer in shock. He couldn't imagine what had happened in the past to bring Legolas out of his previous fits when nothing that his healer had done had succeeded.

"It always passes in a day," Caladel told him solemnly, "but the Ents started to get worried because the grief that was causing it was still there. Someone's got to get rid of _that_ and I think it'll take more than any old healer to do that."

What grief? Eomer was almost bursting with curiosity to find out. He had a couple of guesses without even giving the matter much thought but he would have to wait until Legolas woke up have them confirmed or denied. That was, unless…unless Caladel knew more than what he was letting on, and of course if Eomer could coax this knowledge out of him. A part of him felt ashamed of himself – how could he in good conscience force or trick a little boy into betraying his father's confidence? Yet some secrets had the power to destroy a person if they were kept quiet and Legolas certainly looked like he was suffering. Maybe if he didn't ask directly and instead inferred from whatever the boy would offer if they talked about something else…

"So, Caladel," he said, feeling a little guilty and more than slightly ashamed. He vowed to himself that he would never use the information he got from Legolas' son against the elf in any way. "You, well, you mentioned on a few occasions that it was just you and your father living in Fangorn."

"Us, the Ents, and the trees," interjected Caladel seriously. He loved the Ents and trees too much to stand for hearing them excluded from his family.

"Yes, and them," conceded the Man with an appropriately embarrassed smile. "But you haven't – well, do you – what about your mother?"

"I don't have one of those," said Caladel as if he couldn't care less, giving his shoulders a little shrug.

That was an odd reaction to losing a parent. "You never met her?" pressed Eomer.

"I didn't _have_ one."

"Caladel," said Eomer carefully, not wanting to reveal more about the reproductive cycle than Legolas would want him to, "you need to have had a mother at some point in order to be born."

"Uh-uh," said Caladel, clearly a little frustrated with Eomer's inability to grasp what he thought was the most normal thing in the world. "Ada's a male elf; and so he can either be a sire with a mother or do the birthing himself. Since Ada gave birth to me I know I don't have a mother; I have a sire."

This, beyond its unfathomable parts, opened up new possibilities that Eomer hadn't dreamed of. "What about this sire, then?" he inquired. "I'm guessing that he wasn't with you two. If I'm not wrong, then do you know why not?"

A somber, uncomfortable expression came to the boy's face. "I don't know much about him," he admitted. "Ada didn't like to talk about that sort of thing with me or anyone else. What I do know comes from something that I once overheard between Ada and Treebeard. Treebeard was saying how much I looked like my ada and Ada…well, Ada told him that it was by Eru's mercy that I didn't look like my sire."

'_Then it wasn't a friendly, amicable separation,' _deduced Eomer silently. Nor, most likely, was it a matter of Legolas having a lover who died; for it seemed too out-of-character for the elf to be happy that his child didn't resemble someone he loved and lost to death. That left Eomer with the perplexing mystery of who was the idiot who would actually forsake such a close relationship with Legolas. "You don't know anything else about him?" asked Eomer, really feeling like a rat now.

Caladel twisted a strand of his hair. "He wasn't an elf," he said somewhat reluctantly. "My ada told me once that my sire was a Man."

Eomer was absolutely floored. He blinked as he suddenly became aware that, though the boy did resemble his father a great deal, the color of their hair was actually quite different. Caladel's hair didn't have the pure gold appearance of his father's mane; it was more of a dirty blonde. The king felt a strange pit in his stomach when he realized that it looked not unlike that of most of the people in Rohan.

The sound of Caladel's stomach growling pulled Eomer back to reality. "Forgive me," he said almost breathlessly with an understanding smile. "I should have realized that you were getting hungry! Would you like to come with me to the kitchens to get something to eat? I promise that I'll bring you right back here and tuck you in next to your father afterwards."

The Man was pleased when Caladel hesitated for a shorter amount of time. "Do you have blackberries?" the boy asked hopefully. "Quickbeam, Ada, and I used to pick those all the time because they're my favorite."

"I'm happy to say that I can offer you at least that one comfort from Fangorn," Eomer told him as he rose to his feet. He held out his hand, letting Caladel decide if he wanted to take it. After a few seconds a little hand did indeed slip into his and together Man and elfling walked out of the room.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Legolas felt as disoriented as he always did whenever he came out of his grief-induced fit. _'This is absolutely the last year that this is going to happen,' _he vowed to himself, which had also become another yearly ritual. He knew that he wouldn't be able to let go of his grief as long as his heart clung to Aragorn and no matter what he did he couldn't make it let that Man go. Grasping at the covers Legolas tried to collect himself –

What one minute – covers? Legolas only had one blanket – he'd had a lot to bring with him when he went into Fangorn and couldn't justify bringing more than that; and besides, he never had any use for it. Now he was burrowed under not one but _three_ covers – a sheet, a blanket, and a quilt – as he lay on the…bed? He let out a horrified gasp as his eyes flew open. This wasn't Fangorn! He was in a building; he felt that he could have recognized the cultural décor in a more rational moment but even a panicked simpleton would have known that he was in a Mannish bedchamber. But where was his son?

"Caladel!" cried Legolas. There was no response but he could feel the boy's presence somewhere nearby. Had Aragorn found them? Had he discovered the truth about Caladel and taken the boy away to punish him? Legolas couldn't stand the thought. "Ion nin! Please, Caladel, answer me!"

Still nothing. Legolas felt like he couldn't breathe. "I won't let you do this!" he screamed at the people he perceived was keeping his son away. "Dear Elbereth, don't take him away from me!"

Footsteps running in the corridor outside made the door tremble slightly a few seconds before it burst open. "Ada!" cried Caladel. He frantically waved his red, sticky hands as he raced to his father's side. "I'm right here, Ada; don't worry!"

Legolas seized him immediately, drawing the elfling close; Eomer couldn't help thinking that it looked like the elf feared that some threatening presence would come in and demand that he hand Caladel over. "Thank Elbereth," the prince sobbed. "Thank Elbereth you're safe. I love you so much, my precious, precious son; so very much. I couldn't bear to lose you."

Eomer felt out-of-place in his own hall as he watched father and son's tearful reunion. "I, uh," he cleared his throat awkwardly and succeeded in getting Legolas' attention. "Caladel was very hungry, so I took him to raid the kitchens. I'm sorry if we caused you any distress."

The last person that Legolas had expected to see when he got over his fit was the king of Rohan. "Eomer?" he asked. The Man nodded, at a loss for any other response though he did smile at hearing the elf say his name. "Then this must be…Meduseld?"

His only answer was another nod. "But yesterday my son and I were in Fangorn!" he exclaimed, too taken aback to think about keeping his haven a secret. "How did you come to be here, and in such a short amount of time?"

"Caladel approached an eored on the River Isen," Eomer informed him. "He told them that his father was sick; it was only after he led them to you did any of them realize that his father was Prince Legolas. After that Elfhelm and a young soldier named Alfmund pushed their horses to exhaustion to get you two here as swiftly as possible."

"Quickbeam told me to do it," added Caladel quickly under his father's incredulous stare. "He and Treebeard decided that it would be best for both of us."

"Those meddling Ents," commented Legolas dryly as he went over Treebeard's last round of sound advice and subtle suggestions. While he understood that the Ent had thought that leaving might be in his best interest for a long time he could scarcely believe that he would do something so…hasty.

"I for one am glad about it," broke in Eomer, unable to contain himself when he saw the elf's enchantingly wry smile. "It's so wonderful to see you again, Legolas! A lot of people have been so worried about you: the hobbits, Gimli, your poor father, and Aragorn. Oh! I must write to Aragorn at once; he's been desperate for information about your whereabouts for years."

Legolas' stomach dropped at the mention of his lover's – _'ex-lover; he's my EX-lover'_ – name. He couldn't face Aragorn now, not when he felt so off-balance. Not ever, if he could manage it. "Eomer," he croaked out. "Is there any place close by where you and I might talk privately?"

"These particularly chambers have a second, smaller bedchamber through that door," replied Eomer, a little confused as he pointed to a door on the wall that stood to the left of the bed. "I thought that you'd like an extra one for Caladel."

"Perfect," declared Legolas in a falsely chipper voice. "Ion nin, why don't you climb into this bed here? I'll be right back as soon as Eomer and I have a little talk."

The elf managed to tuck his son in as normally as he could and even refrained from forcibly dragging Eomer into the other bedchamber by his collar. Only when the door closed did he loosen his rigid control over his emotions. "Don't tell Aragorn anything about me," pleaded Legolas before the Man could say anything. "Not where I am, or that I'm a father, or anything else!"

"But he's so worried!" protested Eomer. "In every letter he sends he begs for information about you no matter what he's writing about or who he's sending it to. I don't understand why you'd want to prolong his suffering –"

"Please!" Legolas' voice cracked. He wasn't in the mood to hear about how much Aragorn cared about him and all the pain that his disappearance had caused the Man. "I'm _begging_ you, Eomer. I'm not his subject, nor am I under his command so you have no legal reason compelling you to tell him where I am. I can't – see him. I can't…"

Eomer didn't like this but he was suddenly afraid that Legolas would bolt again if he felt like he was being cornered. "If I do this," he said slowly, "will you consent to having a _long_ talk with me so that I might understand the reasons for it and why you vanished?"

"Yes," answered Legolas right away. He failed in fighting down a yawn. "Right now?"

"No," said Eomer compassionately. "I guess your fit didn't allow you to get much sleep last night, and I didn't get a lot of it myself. I daresay that our conversation will be an exhausting one and it would be best if we weren't already tired when we start it."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

No sooner had Eomer left Legolas and Caladel in their bedchamber did a frantic servant track him down, saying that his presence was required outside _immediately_. _'Not again,'_ Eomer internally groaned. How many crises did he have to deal with before he too could get some sleep?

Resolving to take care of it as soon as possible, Eomer rushed straight outside and down the outside stairs. He had just enough time to take in a slew of horses, including a white one that was without a rider, before almost tripping over something – someone – on the way down. "What the –"

"I heard the news," announced a breathless, hopeful Gimli. "That Léod came to the caves with a tale about finding Legolas sick in Fangorn. Is it true?"

Thank the Valar he didn't promise not to tell Gimli. "Yes, it is," nodded Eomer.

"He's here, then?" asked Gimli. "Is he all right?"

"He's here and he's _fine_," stressed Eomer. "In fact he's probably sleeping as we speak."

In an instant the dwarf's expression changed from hopeful anxiousness to absolute fury. "That dratted elf!" he raged. "After all he's put me through he has the nerve to be asleep _now_? Where is he? I'm going to kill him!"

To be continued…


	15. Reunion of old friends

_A/N: Yes…um…well, now that you mention it, it _does_ seem like Gimli made remarkable time to Edoras (author goes to hide under her desk in embarrassment only to slip and fall through an enormous plot hole). Sorry, guys; I was thinking too much about when I wanted our dear dwarf to show up to consider the logistics of two little things called space and time. All I can do now is ask that you suspend disbelief and promise that I'll try to do better next time._

Sleep apparently was going to be elusive for Eomer, at least for the immediate future. "Master dwarf," he said in a deliberately steady voice that didn't hide the undercurrents of apprehension in it, "welcome to Edoras."

"Are you deaf, Man?" snapped Gimli furiously, barely restraining himself from swatting at Eomer's side when the Man deftly moved with him to continue blocking his way into Meduseld. Through his emotions the dwarf knew that he shouldn't be speaking to the king of Rohan in such a matter in his chief city; Eomer might tolerate that for their friendship's sake but he could never let him get away with striking him in public for not obeying an order without the Rohirrim thinking that he's weak. "Get out of my way! I have a few words to say to that wayward elf."

Eomer pursed his lips as he wondered how much about Legolas' plight he should reveal to Gimli now. "Perhaps it would be best if you waited –"

"Wait? You want me to _wait_?" roared Gimli. "What do you think I've been doing? I've waited for five years and that amounted to nothing!"

"You're here now," Eomer pointed out, hoping to both calm the dwarf and stall him. "I wouldn't call that nothing; rather, your patience is finally paying off and having just a little more wouldn't hurt now."

Gimli was tired. As soon as he'd gotten over the shock about hearing that the eored who'd come to the Glittering Caves had found a gravely ill Legolas in Fangorn Forest not a day earlier (though he didn't for the life of him understand why the Men had gone into that accursed forest in the first place; Léod had been notably cagey with the details) he'd insisted on leaving for Edoras as soon as Arod could be made ready. That exhaustion was now mixing with his relief, elation, anxiousness, anger, and hurt feelings until they all jumbled together to form the general emotion of _cranky_.

Fortunately for Gimli, dwarves wore crankiness well. "I'm starting not to care that you're king here," he said, his voice even but threatening to erupt with every word. "And I don't care if you want it to be all sunshine and happiness around here; and I certainly couldn't care less if you've been nursing your little crush on that laddie for years now –"

The Man's face flushed a bit. Did Gimli really have to yell that out for all of Edoras to hear? "I beg your pardon?"

"You're trying to stall me and I won't have it, no matter what your reasons are for it, Gimli told him. "Aüle! Haven't I been through enough? Five years – _five years_ – of worrying about an elf of all people and I wouldn't even have found out now that he was alive and here if a bunch of dunderheads hadn't needed an excuse for being late to our meeting! Now I demand some answers and I expect you to be as forthcoming as possible: where is Legolas?"

"I swear that you will see him soon enough," promised Eomer firmly. "But first you _must_ calm yourself. Whatever drove Legolas away in the first place, I don't believe that he's moved beyond it. I fear that he'll only flee again if you or anyone else who isn't thinking rationally confronts him."

The dwarf's face screwed up; for a moment Eomer thought that he was going to start yelling again. He braced himself but then Gimli's featured slackened and his shoulders slumped. "He didn't have to run," he mumbled, his tone giving away the years of despair and confusion he'd just gone through. There hadn't been a day that had gone by when Gimli hadn't tried to figure out why his friend felt like he had to vanish and wondered what he could have done to stop him. "I would have helped him, no matter what it was. I would have done almost anything for him, and I wouldn't have judged him for it either."

"I know," said Eomer, his face and voice softening as he let his sympathy filter through. "And I'm sure that Legolas understands that too. I've only begun to realize – maybe – what he's gone through and I wouldn't be surprised if he left everyone behind because he wasn't ready to share his burden with others. He could use a friend now, though, and you two can have a nice, long conversation as soon as he wakes up –"

"_What?"_ demanded Gimli, suddenly livid and incredulous again. Eomer automatically squared his shoulders and planted his feet to stand up to the perceived hostility. "Did you just say what I think you just said? You seriously think that I should have to wait until he wakes up all nice and peacefully before I let him have it? You mean after five years of me tossing and turning through sleepless nights and just going through one very wearying ride to Edoras I can't see him now because he's _sleeping_? That tears it!"

With surprising nimbleness Gimli maneuvered his way around the Man; the fact that Eomer had just dug his feet in made him slower to move and soon the dwarf was charging up the stairs that led into Edoras. A few of the guards who were close at hand and had been watching the dwarf's rude exchange with their king made a move to follow him. Eomer, knowing that he didn't want to bring anyone else into what was a personal issue, quickly signaled for them to remain where they were before setting out after the dwarf himself.

As he possessed longer legs, a vastly better knowledge of the building's layout, and a clearer mind, the Man had a natural advantage over Gimli and he caught up with the fuming dwarf very quickly. "I could have you imprisoned for entering my hall without my consent," he warned.

"But you won't," returned Gimli with grim confidence. "Too complicated, and the payoff wouldn't be worth it. Now where is he?"

"I will tell you when you calm down," Eomer told him insistently. "Not one moment before then."

Gimli stopped short and spun to face the Man. "Eomer, you've got to understand where I'm coming from," he ordered in frustration. "Imagine, if you will, how you would feel if Eowyn suddenly went missing and turned up years later just as abruptly. You then forgo sleep and comfort to get to her as soon as possible. By the end of your trip you feeling like you're two seconds away from clawing your own skin off lest you go mad and someone – a person who isn't as close to her as you, who has no authority over her, and just ended up with her in his presence because of happenstance – is telling you that you can't see her until you've calmed down enough to suit his standards. Tell me, Eomer: do you really think that it's possible to get that calm under those circumstances?"

That was a good point; Eomer's stomach was twisting at the mere thought of his beloved sister vanishing one day. Wordlessly the king shook his head.

"Well then, I think we finally understand each other," said Gimli in a tightly controlled tone. "Now I'm going to see Legolas right away, even if I have to take out my axe and reduce this fine hall to kindling to do it. Can't we just save ourselves some time – both now and later – as well as some bad blood and additional hurts by you just telling me where I can find him?"

"He's staying in the suite that's down the corridor to the back left of the throne, seventh door on the right," Eomer told him after a moment more of consideration. Gimli instantly spun on his heels and stalked off in that direction. "But wait! Master dwarf, I must insist! You must not go in there when you're filled with so much rage…"

Gimli ignored whatever the Man who was following him was blathering on about, for he was too busy counting doors. They were few and far between, leading the dwarf to conclude that he was in the royal quarters. Furthermore, Eomer had given the wayward elf in one of the living quarters instead of just one of the honored guest suites. The thought was as comforting – at least he had some assurances that Legolas was settling into somewhere safe – as it was maddening. "Why should that blasted elf – five – be _rewarded_ for pulling his – six – vanishing act," he muttered as he counted under his breath. He stopped as he breathed out the last number – "seven" – and looked determinedly at the door before resolutely grasping its knob.

"Gimli, wait!" Eomer rushed up to get in one last, probably futile plea. "I you heed nothing else I've said here today, please heed this: speak softly at first and let him help you understand what he's gone through."

"Oh, I'll speak softly all right," glowered Gimli, steamed. With no further ado he wrenched the door open and stormed inside. "You pointy-eared…"

His voice trailed off as the insult died on his lips, as he was too stunned and bewildered by what he saw on the bed before him to speak. Legolas was lying down, his eyes vacant as he drifted around in elvish dreams, but that was not what robbed Gimli of his speech. There was another person – a child that was almost like a smaller version of his friend – who was curled up next to the elf in a similar sleep.

That was, in a similar sleep until the dwarf's fairly noisy sudden entrance. Legolas was too exhausted to do more than stir before slipping deeper into sleep but Caladel had awoken as soon as he heard the dwarf's shout. The elfling rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked up to see who had disturbed him. He was comforted a little bit by the sight of the somewhat familiar face of Eomer in the doorway but soon was staring straight at the intruding Gimli. "Who –" the boy started; but then his eyes lit up and he smiled at him. "You're a dwarf!"

Gimli managed to get out a cough and nodded, still goggling at the unexpected child.

"I knew it!" exclaimed Caladel excitedly. "Ada shows me a book that has pictures of your people in it all the time! And you look like one too – because you are one, of course – but he described one of your kind a few times…are you Lord Gimli?"

He needed a drink of water, or better yet something stronger – his mouth was very dry and his nerves were very close to being shot. "I – I am," he croaked out, stumbling toward the foot of the bed awkwardly.

Caladel crawled out from under the covers. Eomer was sure that the skittish boy was about to do something like throw himself protectively over his prone father's form, but he shocked both the Man and Gimli both by stepping lightly to the end of the bed and throwing his arms around the dwarf. "I'm so gland that I finally get to meet you!" he declared happily. "I feel like I know you already from listening to Ada's stories, of course. You're always so good in those and I can tell that he loves you so much. I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to meet you because we lived in Fangorn and he said that you didn't like trees and they didn't like you but now you're here! I can't wait to find out all about you. Is it true that you sprung out of rock to be born?"

He was holding an elf child who, judging by the way he spoke, apparently didn't need to breathe very oftenand seemed to know him (or at least of him). Gimli had never been so baffled and off-kilter in his life. "I – you – don't – know – who are you?" he sputtered out. "How did you get here?"

"I sprung out of Ada, like you did out of that rock," replied Caladel cheerfully.

Eomer shook his head in amazement. He had provided Legolas and Caladel with shelter, had the city's finest healer see to the elf immediately, and plied the boy with his favorite food and still he could sense some suspicion whenever the child looked at him; and all Gimli had to do was confirm his identity and Caladel welcomed him as one of the family. There was something inherently unfair about that, but the Man could see the humor in it. "Well, the young one here seems to know who you are so it's only fair that you're introduced to him now," said Eomer with a wry smile. "Gimli, this is Caladel – Legolas' son."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

As Legolas slowly came out of his elven dreams, he sensed that something was once again off. But unlike the earlier rude awakening when he didn't know where his son was he now felt – safe. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; it almost seemed like there had been something off-kilter about the world that had somehow righted itself while he slept. It was tempting to lay there and soak in the feeling indefinitely, just passing the time by listening to that comforting rumbling – that reminded him a bit of Treebeard's wise voice – that was coming from his bedside.

It took him a moment or two to realize that the Treebeard-ish rumbling was actually words made by another friend's voice. "…now forty-two isn't a bad score, especially not for a pointy-eared elvish princeling, but it's not as good as forty-three," the beloved gruff voice that Legolas had long missed was saying. "But your father just couldn't graciously accept defeat. He went so far as to shoot a dead orc lying beneath me to even our score!"

Caladel's laughter mingled with Gimli's during that last exclamation. _'Gimli's met my son,'_ thought Legolas. That realization didn't seem as crushing as he feared that it would be. _'He called me Caladel's father. He _knows.'

A strange feeling of calm washed over him, followed by a warm glow as hope filled his heart. Gimli had not only accepted the fact that the elf had a child but also seemed to open his heart to Caladel right away, sharing embarrassing stories with him like a…grandfather would. Maybe he hadn't totally destroyed his relationship with the good dwarf all those years ago; after all, Gimli was being more receptive to his son than Elrond had ever been.

Of course that didn't mean that Legolas was going to stand for Gimli making such mortifying comments to Caladel – there were going to be some rebellious years ahead and he couldn't have the boy armed with all these tales of his own wayward youth. "He was _twitching_," he argued quietly, rolling over to look at them. The sight of his son sitting on Gimli's lap, braiding his beard as the dwarf patted his head fondly, was altogether darling.

"Laddie," whispered Gimli in a choked voice as every one of his emotions tried to rush out of him at once.

"I met Gimli, Ada," announced Caladel happily, waving his hand to gesture at the dwarf as if Legolas didn't know who he was talking about. "He's so nice, and funny, and smart too!"

"And this boy has an ingenious intellect to go with that incredible taste of his," chimed in Gimli warmly as his eyes brimmed with tears. "I can't see where he gets _those_ from."

"Don't start teasing now when you haven't even said hello to each other yet – it's rude!" admonished Caladel. He shook his head at Gimli – though the scolding gesture lost most of its power due to the broad smile that was spread across the boy's face – before turning back to his father. "You said some great things about him before but he's even better in person. The same goes for Eomer," he added, nodding toward the door.

Legolas turned his neck and was somewhat surprised to see that the king of Rohan was indeed standing in front of the closed door. "You tell a lot of great stories, Ada," the boy continued. "But I think that I like being around the people more than I like just hearing about them."

"I do too," Legolas told him, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to stem the flow of tears that were threatening to break through his defenses. After all of the trauma Caladel had just been through he didn't want to further confuse or scare him by dissolving into sobs right in front of him. Besides, the last time he'd willingly let his emotions get the better of him was when Caladel was born and he wasn't about to let that happen again now.

Thankfully Eomer apparently recognized his internal struggle. "Well, I can see that you and Gimli have a lot to speak about," he said a little too casually. With a gentle smile walked forward and extended his hand toward Caladel. "Come, Caladel; let's give them a little privacy. We have somewhere better to be anyway; usually by this time of day the royal cook has some treats all prepared and out on a plate in the kitchen."

Caladel looked at his father, who nodded encouragingly. Very cautiously he rose to his feet, gingerly took the Man's hand, and let Eomer lead him to the door. "What is this treat?" he couldn't help asking suspiciously.

"I'm not sure if I can describe it to you if you haven't tasted one already," replied Eomer as he opened the door. "Let's see; have you ever had a pastry before?"

Gimli waited until the pair had left and the door was safely shut again before he trusted himself to look at Legolas again. "Well, laddie," he began.

Never had two fairly generic words held so much meaning. Legolas could feel the last of his defenses crumbling and he forced himself to steel up before the tears started to flow. He couldn't blink them out of his eyes, though. "Oh don't start doing that," complained the dwarf as he watched the elf's eyelids flutter rapidly. "It makes it hard for me to yell at you when you look about ready to break down."

"One moment, please!" requested Legolas in an unsteady voice. "I just need to – to calm down a little. Believe me, I'm not bringing on the tears to keep you from scolding me."

"I never said that I _couldn't_ yell at you," Gimli told him dryly. "I just said that the threat of tears makes it a little harder. But you should know by now that the prospect of doing something difficult never scared me off before; especially when it's one that will make me feel a whole lot better. And I think that letting an inconsiderate, selfish, cruel elf who thinks nothing about his friends will make me feel the best I've felt in years."

"Gimli –"

"No," Gimli cut him off sharply. "You don't get to say anything. You've already held a good share of my mind for far too long and I won't let you take up this time now before I get my say." He stared hard at Legolas as he decided where to start. "Would it have done any harm to tell someone that you'd decided to drop out of the world of the living for awhile instead of just disappearing and leaving us to wonder?"

"Please –"

"Don't go saying that this was an impulsive decision because it wasn't," admonished Gimli. "The packs you prepared, setting yourself up in Fangorn, giving me Arod: you planned all of that out very carefully and all to make it easier for you to slip away. Why, Legolas? Did you get Caladel's mother pregnant and decide that there was only room in your life and heart for her and your son?"

Legolas knew that he deserved that but Gimli's tirade still stung him badly. "No," he answered, his voice trembling almost beyond control as he shook his head emphatically. "My son – my son – he doesn't have a mother. He doesn't _have_ one, Gimli; it was I who bore him. I had to be without his sire and – I don't know; I think I got so afraid that someone was going to try to take him away from me that I ran."

The room fell into absolute silence. Legolas took advantage of the pause in the conversation to take in several deep breaths and try to rein in his emotions. This had been the first time since Caladel's birth that he openly acknowledged that he felt anything about Aragorn leaving him and he was deeply ashamed of himself. Yet, in away it felt so good to finally share those feelings with someone who wouldn't let him hide from them.

Of course, he'd also feel better if the dwarf would say something – _anything_ – instead of just goggling at him. "I – I think that we're going to have to start this conversation over again," Gimli finally stammered out. "What – what's this all about there being no mother and bearing and sires?"

"Male elves have the ability to bear children, Gimli, and I did," explained Legolas, fighting himself to not lose it now. "There was no mother and no _sires_ either," he added defensively, inadvertently shuddering as the remembered his last conversation with Lord Elrond. In his worst nightmares he heard the elf lord's veiled accusation about sleeping with several people coming out of the mouths of the people that he loved most and he couldn't stand the idea of that coming true in any way. "There was only one sire and there's never been any question about who he is."

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it," replied Gimli, startled by the strength of Legolas' declaration. The elf had seemed so contrite just moments before; there must be something more to this than a simple misunderstanding. "Give me a minute to take all of this in, laddie; it a bit of a shock, you know." He sat quiet and absolutely still for a full thirty seconds and then exhaled loudly. "This sire isn't with you two, then. Has he ever been?"

"Well, he had to have been to help create Caladel in the first place," replied Legolas sullenly, still thinking about Elrond. He shook his head to rid himself of the bad thoughts. "I'm sorry, Gimli; I shouldn't be so short with you. No, it's always been just me and Caladel. The sire – he – we couldn't be together."

The only thing that Gimli could think about was that ridiculous story that the twins and Arwen had told him over five years earlier. "It's not King Theoden, is it?"

"What?" Legolas stared at him as if he'd grown two extra heads. "King Theoden? No! Why would you even think that?"

"Well, I was never convinced that it was true," Gimli defended himself lamely. "But Queen Arwen and her brothers were certain that you two had been involved and that his death was the reason why you were acting so oddly. And now that you have a sire-less child…"

"King Theoden was a good and honorable Man but nothing ever happened between us that even the most imaginative gossip mongers would ever consider to be _remotely _romantic," stressed Legolas. He gave Gimli an incredulous look and shook his head. "Ai Elbereth; Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir aren't spreading this around, are they? I'd hate to think that the king's memory was being marred in any way by a rumor about a fictitious illicit affair."

"Don't worry," Gimli told him quickly. "It was only between me, them, Aragorn, and Lord Elrond and I'm sure that none of them said anything."

A shadow fell across Legolas' face. "Good," he said in a hard tone.

"Is Caladel's sire one of the elves from Lothlorien?" persisted Gimli. Legolas could practically see the wheels turning in the dwarf's head. "Perhaps one of the ones who fell during the Battle of Helm's Deep? That's why you can't be with him, right: because he's dead? Oh, Legolas – was it Haldir?"

"It wasn't Haldir or any other elf," answered Legolas tersely, still in a dark and pensive mood. "Caladel is part Man."

Gimli threw his hands up in the air. "Well, I don't know who it could be then!" he declared. "I was with you almost constantly since we left Lothlorien to the day of Aragorn's coronation and I don't remember you being alone with any Man long enough to, uh, do what you have to do to get pregnant, except Aragorn…."

Cold realization washed over him when he saw Legolas bite his lip. "Oh, laddie," gasped Gimli in dismay. "What did you do? How could you let yourself get into a situation of sleeping with someone who'd promised himself to another?"

"He told me that it was over!" burst out Legolas with a good deal of anger. "He told me that she'd left for the Undying Lands and that we could finally be together. We – we were involved for a time decades ago and I still loved him. I _never_ pursued him when I thought that Arwen was still around but I couldn't deny my heart when he told me that she was gone. I shouldn't have believed him but I won't be blamed for it anymore!"

"Blamed for it? What are you talking about?" asked a perplexed and horrified Gimli, certain that he wasn't going to like the answer.

Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lord Elrond," he mumbled. He was too worn down to keep these secrets from his dear friend any longer and wasn't inclined to protect the elf lord anyway. "I went to him for help when I realized that I was pregnant. He – asked me if I knew who the sire was even though he knew about my relationship with Aragorn, then implied that I got pregnant on purpose, and finally suggested rather strongly that I take some herbs that would have killed my baby." He turned his pleading eyes on the dwarf. "Please don't turn against me too, Gimli, no matter what I've done to deserve it. I couldn't bear it if you did."

"I would never do that," vowed Gimli resolutely. It was no wonder now why Legolas had vanished like he did – after being betrayed and mistreated by the person he'd been in love with for so long and the elf who was like a second father to him he must have felt as if the whole world had turned against him. "I'm right here by your side and ready to make things right for you again. I only wish that Lord Elrond hadn't gone to Valinor already; I would have taken my axe to him after I _had a little chat_ with that dishonorable son of a bitch who lied, used you, and abandoned you. Now I can only do the latter."

"No!" cried a panicked Legolas. "Gimli, please, you can't! I can't risk losing Caladel. Besides, Aragorn didn't mean to do it – he thought that she'd left."

"Why are you defending him?" Now it was Gimli's turn to look at the elf as if he had extra heads. "You're not still in love with him, are you?"

"It's complicated," replied Legolas, not wanting to delve into the task of sorting through all of the emotions that coursed through him whenever he thought about Aragorn. "Please just don't tell him about Caladel, or me, or anything."

"I promise, laddie," said Gimli reluctantly, his insides twisting a little as he did so.

The door was thrown open suddenly and Caladel bounded in, carrying a tart; Eomer came in behind him, bearing another one. "I _love_ sweets, Ada," the boy announced happily, jumping up onto the bed. "We brought two of them back so that the both of you could have one each – you have to try this!"

"Why, thank you, ion nin," smiled Legolas as he took the pastry.

"Yes, thanks, lad," added Gimli, casting a meaningful look Eomer's way. "I'll go get mine from Eomer right now; feel free to dig in, Legolas."

He got up and crossed the room to discreetly lead Eomer to the farthest point away from the bed without actually going out the door. "I take it you wish to stay on for a bit," said Eomer.

"For a few days right now," nodded Gimli. "But what's more important is that I want you to convince him to stay here until I get back from Gondor."

"He doesn't want Aragorn to know," Eomer told him, although a part of him wished that Gimli would tell the other king everything. He felt very uneasy about keeping this secret, even though he instinctively knew for some reason that it was important for him to do just that.

"It's not like that," replied Gimli darkly. "You must know by now that Queen Arwen has had another child and I've already promised that I will visit soon. Don't tell him where I'm going! I don't want him disappearing again while I'm gone. And don't worry, Eomer; I can find a way to say all that I need to say to Aragorn without saying anything about Legolas and Caladel. I have the eyes of a hawk, the ears of a fox, and the uncanny ability to keep a secret no matter what happens."

To be continued…


	16. A visit to the king of Gondor

The entire realm of Gondor was brimming with weeks-long celebration by the time that Gimli, riding Arod, arrived in Minas Tirith, where the enthusiastic festivities had positively overflowed. The people had every reason to be in the mood to party, though; for their beautiful Queen Evenstar had given birth to the king's third child in less than five years. This wasn't remarkable in itself – Arwen obviously hadn't been thought to be barren before and the pregnancy hadn't been any more or less complicated than her previous two had been – but the Gondorians understood that having a large royal family would offer some reassurance that they wouldn't be left rudderless if anything (Valar forbid) should happen to the king. The fact that the new addition was a baby girl only slightly diminished their jubilation.

It was something that everyone knew but never actually said aloud: almost everyone in the kingdom wished that the queen had given birth to a boy. Oh, things would have been absolutely perfect if that had happened! The people of Gondor longed for the security of having two boys in the royal family – a spare to their heir, so to speak; a little extra assurance that the line of Isildur could endure a little more tragedy and come out of it with a male heir still ready to take the throne. Still, no one was cursing the existence of the new Princess Miriel. She was a symbol of the queen's fertility and their hope that Arwen would be able to provide another male baby in the future.

Besides, the realm had endured so many years of darkness under the Shadow of Sauron; now that they had the freedom to celebrate as they would the people needed very little inducement to do so. That was why as the dwarf rode through the streets with a determined look on his face he couldn't help hearing around every corner the sounds of people shouting, "To the princess!" followed by cheers and clinking cups.

As the White City continued to toast to the new princess with remarkable exuberance the royal family of Gondor was having their own, more subdued celebration. It had become a kind of tradition for them to gather together in the nursery three times a day for their meals for a month after a new baby was born. This ritual had started by happenstance rather than design soon after the eldest child, Eldarion, was born. Arwen had found that Aragorn was spending his every free moment with their new son and, realizing that it was a choice between eating in the nursery or not seeing her husband at all until bedtime, had ordered that their meals be sent there until she had found a way to coax him out of there. When Silmariën was born two years later the Man had done the same, only this time sequestering Eldarion away with them and Arwen again was forced to temporarily move their mealtimes into the nursery. From then on the mealtime tradition was born.

The elf queen had quickly learned to love the tradition as something that drew them closer as a family and always looked forward to the times of day when they could all be gathered in one place. Now seated on the floor of the nursery, playing with her son with one hand and using the other to hold her eldest daughter on her lap, she looked up to smile adoringly at her husband. Aragorn was across the room, sitting in a rocking chair as he cradled baby Miriel and gazed down at her as if she were the most precious thing in the entire world. Arwen sighed contentedly at the sight. She fell in love with the Man all over again whenever she witnessed him acting like a loving and attentive father – and that was often.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" asked Arwen happily.

"Hmmmm?" mumbled Aragorn distractedly.

Arwen couldn't help giggling. How like Aragorn to become enthralled just by looking at one of their children! "Our Miriel is beautiful, is she not?" she repeated with a knowing smile. "Oh, Aragorn; how blessed can two people be in one lifetime? She's a true miracle – as were our other children."

"Yes she is," Aragorn agreed, not bothering to tear his eyes away from his new daughter to do something as unimportant as looking at his wife. He really wished that Arwen wouldn't talk – her voice grated on his nerves as it was. The fact that it was interrupting his time of bonding with one of his children made it even more difficult for him not to grimace.

Blocking Arwen's voice out of his mind, the Man lifted his head to smile warmly at his two older children before shifting his eyes back down to the baby in his arms. Little Miriel was indeed beautiful and, judging by her resemblance to her sister at that age and the way that Silmariën was growing, she would become even more gorgeous when she got older. Both girls favored Arwen when it came to their looks and Aragorn was amazed once again to find that he could see so much beauty in what he usually found to be so repulsive.

The relationship between Aragorn and Arwen hadn't improved much over the years – at least not on Aragorn's part. Outwardly he managed to show almost as much affection for her – most of the time – as he had in the months after they first got married; but in fact things had gotten steadily worse in Aragorn's mind since the horrible day that he learned about Legolas' disappearance. With his heart torn apart, his guilt always nagging at his conscience, and the way that the petulant part of him blamed Arwen for losing the love of his life, now he could barely stand to look at her.

It was a shame that just _looking_ at Arwen wasn't his biggest problem. Touching her also made his skin crawl, a rather unfortunate occurrence as Arwen's amorous affections had lessened only slightly over time. All too often Aragorn found himself called into their loveless bed and he could never think of way of turning her down without rousing an unpleasant conversation between the two of them. He managed to get through those nights of feigned passion by imagining the person beneath him was his one true love and hoping that he was at least creating a new life to love by doing such a disgusting act.

The Man had come to realize long ago that his children were his salvation. Whenever he was with them – reading, singing, strolling around, bathing them, clothing them, and just playing with them until they had to go to bed – he could almost forget about the ever-widening empty place in his heart that not being with Legolas had caused. "Welcome to the world, my darling daughter," he murmured to the infant who was staring up at him with wide blue eyes. "You are nothing but a blessing to my life. How I love you!"

A little snort came from across the room. "I don't think she's so great," groused Eldarion. He slapped away the toy animals in front of him in a huff and crossed his arms. "I wish she'd go away."

"Why do you want that, my son?" asked Aragorn patiently. "You were excited enough when we were waiting for her to be born."

The three-year-old pulled his mouth into an impressive pout. "That's when I thought the baby was going to be a boy instead of another dumb girl," he said grumpily, sparing a moment to stick his tongue out at Silmariën.

"A new sister can be just as wonderful as a new brother," Arwen told him as she started setting the wooden animals upright again.

"Nah-uh," Eldarion shook his head. He looked over at Miriel and Aragorn could see that something else about the situation was bothering the boy more than the baby's gender. "Besides, it's my birthday soon. I didn't want to have a new baby for my birthday."

"Now, Eldarion, you know that it's almost a month until your birthday," debated Arwen logically. "And I would think that having your birthdays so close would be fun; that way the guests from her parties will be able to stay on to yours without having to leave in-between. That sounds nice, right?"

Eldarion's face screwed up into such a fierce scowl that Aragorn had to hold his breath to keep from laughing out loud. "I don't want _her_ guests!" the little boy cried angrily. "I want my own. Who would like _sharing_ a birthday like that?"

"Who indeed?" mused Aragorn, enjoying the mean thrill that he always got from watching Arwen sputter for words when she spoke with the children. She wasn't very good at thinking on her feet when the children challenged her, having never been second-guessed or opposed often before motherhood. Nor was she skilled at relating to them on their level, often using logic to argue her point when no one their ages cared about it. Seeing that and knowing that he could make things better for his dear children made him love them even more – as if he needed any more reasons to love them.

"Come over here, Eldarion," he continued in a kind voice. "You too, Silmariën."

The little boy walked over to his father; the two-year-old girl pushed her mother's arm away and toddled after. When they were standing in front of him, Aragorn reached out and took both of their hands into one of his palms. "Birthdays are very special things," he said in all seriousness. "That sort of special-ness should never be lessened by having to share it with another person. That's why you, my children, have my solemn promise that none of you will ever have to face this sorry fate. No matter how close it may come to someone else's your birthday parties will always be as grand as they would be if you were the only person in the world, and no one will mention anyone else's when they are supposed to be helping you celebrate yours. What do you say to that, Eldarion, Silmariën?"

The children all but cheered "yea, Papa!" and embraced Aragorn as enthusiastically as they could with the baby still nestled in his other arm. Arwen watched this and once again felt a little left out. After Eldarion was born she'd found herself ill-equipped for motherhood. She loved him with all her heart, of course, but after so many centuries of having people take care of her without having any real responsibilities of her own having to mind a needy baby had turned out to be more difficult than she'd thought that it would be.

She couldn't help being jealous of Aragorn in that regard: his years of service to others made the transition to parenthood so much easier for him. That combined with his willingness to take care of every aspect of child-rearing had made it too easy for Arwen to fall back on him. Now that she felt more confident in her abilities to look after the children she couldn't seem to find a way to bond with her son and daughter on the same level that Aragorn had; and every time that she tried she felt like she was intruding on those relationships. Watching the older children gather so lovingly around their father made her wish that it had been as effortless for her to slip into her motherhood role as it was for Aragorn to adjust to fatherhood.

That didn't stop her from trying to build up her relationship with them whenever she could, though. "Yes, Aragorn, that sounds splendid," she offered awkwardly. "I don't know what I was thinking before. I'm sorry, Eldarion."

"That's all right, Nana," Eldarion told her. He didn't make a move to come back to her, however.

"Yes, well, good," replied Arwen with a good deal of discomfort. "Well…I'm afraid that it's time for you and Silmariën to take your naps."

All of Eldarion's goodwill seemed to evaporate and he pouted again. "No, Nana; please!" he begged unhappily.

"It is naptime, isn't it?" asked Aragorn, raising a finger to his lips to indicate that they should be quiet. "Yes, I think I hear your nanny coming to get you right now. Don't give that poor woman any trouble today and I'll make sure that the cook makes something extra-good for dessert tonight. Let that promise give you sweet dreams."

A few moments later the royal nanny, an elderly woman who reminded Aragorn of the wise grandmothers in the various Mannish tribes that he'd encountered as a ranger, rapped on the door and the two sullen children, after hugging and kissing their parents, quietly – if sulkingly – went off with her. "They are such wonderful children," smiled Arwen warmly after the door shut behind them.

"I'm well aware of that," said Aragorn.

She bit her lip hopefully and rose, walking across the room. When Aragorn made no acknowledgement of her standing in front of him she pulled up another rocking chair to sit next to his and plopped down in it. "I could take Miriel for awhile if you'd like me to," she offered eagerly. "You've been rocking her for such a long time, after all; I understand that you must be tired…"

"There's no need for you to do that; she's asleep," replied Aragorn in a whisper. Not looking at Arwen's disappointed face he got up and reluctantly placed Miriel into her bassinet. "You're so magnificent, my little one, my precious child," he murmured as he adjusted her carefully. "I would like to brag to the whole world about the wonder that is my new daughter."

"I think that you did," commented Arwen with a little laugh. "How many birth announcements did you send out this time? I swear there are more and more of them with each new child! I saw the stack; it looked like there was a mountain of them."

"There were no more than usual," he told her abruptly. Honestly, if she cared so much about the birth announcements she could have done something like _helped_ prepare them. He couldn't stand how she seemed to want to experience the fun part of motherhood without having to do the work too. "There were all of the official ones to the various rulers and lords; and then the personal announcements. Those went to Faramir and Eowyn, three to the Shire, one to Eomer, Gimli, Elladan, Elrohir…and the ones for Legolas."

Arwen covered her mouth and closed her eyes sadly. Aragorn did this every time that he sent out any announcement: he would send one addressed to Legolas to the Shire, Rivendell, the Glittering Caves, Lothlorien, Mirkwood, and then stand on the ledge that was down the path to the citadel to let the wind carry off the final copy. He always hoped that one would find its way into the elf's hands and bring him back to Minas Tirith. It was a nice gesture but she couldn't stand the thought of her husband being crushed when it didn't work – again. "I wish that you wouldn't do this to yourself," she said worriedly. "It only results in more heartache."

Every muscle in Aragorn's body tensed; he immediately knew what she was referring to and he resented her insinuations that she understood anything at all about his relationship with Legolas. "Forgive me for not giving up hope for his safe return," he snapped bitterly. "I am not as willing to give Legolas up as lost as you apparently are."

"Don't do this; you always do this. You know that I miss Legolas just as much as you do," she reminded him tearfully.

"I highly doubt that," he told her in an icy tone.

"I loved him as much as any sister would love her brother!" cried Arwen desperately.

"And yet you give him up for dead so easily," he shot back.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes but the queen in her managed to hold them at bay when a knock came to the door. Aragorn sucked in a breath to calm himself. "Enter," he ordered.

One of the servants stuck his head inside. "I'm sorry to intrude," he said in a quiet voice, "but Lord Gimli has just arrived."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"Welcome back to Minas Tirith, my dear friend!" greeted Aragorn with delight a few minutes later. Upon hearing about Gimli's arrival he and Arwen had decided without words to abandon their disagreement in favor of rushing outside, where they found the dwarf standing on the steps with his arms crossed.

"Thank you, Aragorn, Queen Arwen," replied Gimli with a broad smile that appeared to be a little forced. Aragorn figured that he was just tired from his travels. "It's always…nice to return to the White City, especially to be introduced to a new child."

"Please, Gimli, it's Arwen," insisted Arwen once again, knowing full well that Gimli's proud dwarvish chivalry would never allow him to address her without using her proper title. "It's been far too long since you've been here – since Silmariën's first birthday, as I recall."

"It's difficult for me to get away too often," demurred Gimli.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I don't wish you could come for often," she told him breezily. "At least I know you'll have to stay for a little while here, for I'm afraid that the little one who you came to see is a bit indisposed right now – sleeping. Would you like to see her anyway?"

Gimli shifted his weight from one foot to another and gave Aragorn a strange look. The Man wasn't sure how he should read it. "I don't want to go disturbing the wee lassie now," he decided. "I can find something else to do that will occupy my time until she wakes up."

Arwen could practically feel the eager energy that was radiating off of her guest. The dwarf seemed to be bursting with some sort of anticipation and, judging by the way that he was looking at her husband, she wasn't the person that he so wanted to talk to. "Like catching up with Aragorn, perhaps?" suggested Arwen diplomatically. "Male bonding, or Fellowship bonding, or something along those lines?"

Gimli's eyes immediately lit up. "Yes, exactly," he agreed readily.

"About anything in particular?" wondered Aragorn.

"Not here," Gimli told him meaningfully. "There are some things that are best discussed in private."

Aragorn's heart leapt suddenly. Maybe Gimli had come with tidings concerning Legolas! "Of course," he said with unbridled excitement. He glanced over at Arwen and wished even more than usual that she would just go away. "Gimli and I must speak and I don't know how long it will take; if you'll excuse us, Arwen."

"Yes of course I will," she nodded. Arwen had never believed in interfering with her husband's bond with the other members of the Fellowship; she knew that becoming king had been hard on him and wanted him to have that one part of his life that didn't have to change. "I was planning on gong back to the nursery anyway; I feel like sitting beside Miriel's bassinet for awhile."

Aragorn could barely wait until she'd gone back inside the citadel before turning his almost desperate eyes on Gimli. The dwarf didn't give any indication that he noticed how upset he was. "Do you have news about Legolas?" he asked.

"I'd prefer not to speak about it here," was all that Gimli would say.

Oh, this had to be important! He knew where Legolas was – he _had_ to. "Then where would you like to speak?" he asked, imagining how he would feel when he saw his love again. He could almost feel Legolas in his arms once again.

"The most private place that you can think of," said Gimli.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

By the time that they got into his office Aragorn's hands were shaking so badly that he almost couldn't slide the bolt into place to lock the door. "We won't be interrupted in here," he explained to an oddly quiet Gimli. "Everyone knows that they shouldn't disturb me when I have the door closed unless it's of the utmost importance, so this is as private as we can get without leaving the city. Now what do you have to tell me? Is it – is it really about Legolas?"

"Aye," said Gimli gruffly, still staring unsettlingly at him. Aragorn's heart started beating even more wildly. "But I'm afraid that what I have to say will mostly be old news to you."

The king deflated a little but he refused to give up yet. "Have you remembered something?" he asked, still hopeful. "Something that might help us find him?"

Then the oddest thing of all happened: a _sneer_ twisted Gimli's mouth. "Listen to you go on," he said, and his voice was not pleasant. "You sound so sincere; like you actually give a damn about Legolas."

"What?" asked Aragorn in hurt confusion. "What are you saying, Gimli? I _do_ care about him; you know that."

"Yes," replied Gimli nastily. "I know that you care about him. You care about him so much that you somehow trick him into bed with you and then abandon him as soon as you learn that being with Queen Arwen is still an option for you. Really, it's astonishing; I don't know how one could care about him more."

Aragorn had never been so stunned in his life. "I – how – what?" he sputtered.

"Don't start acting like you don't have a brain," scoffed Gimli, all of his nerves charged now that he finally had an opportunity to voice his anger. This was the chance not only to let the person who betrayed his friend to have it, but also to ream out the person responsible for his disappearance in the first place. "We both know that it's a heart that you lack. How else could you sleep with Legolas and then cast him aside like he's nothing but garbage?"

"I most certainly did not!" burst out Aragorn, his nostrils flaring.

"Didn't what?" shot back Gimli. "Didn't sleep with him? Didn't use him? Didn't leave him when you were done with him?"

"I – I – we had a relationship," Aragorn admitted. Even though Gimli was acting so hostile and bizarre it actually felt good to let that secret out. "We were intimate too, but I _never_ used him. Anyone who says different will have to deal with the consequences. I loved him, Gimli – you have no idea how much. I'm still in love with him."

No sympathy came to Gimli's expression. "Then why is Queen Arwen your spouse and he is – he is Aüle knows where?" he demanded, catching himself just in time.

"She was supposed to go over the Sea," fumed Aragorn, his blood boiling at the memory. "I _sent_ her away, but instead she stayed and gave up her immortality. I had to marry her after that, even though I don't love her. It's not as if she could ever replace Legolas in my mind and heart – I cannot stand her!"

"So let me get this straight," said Gimli slowly and deadly. "You claim to be deeply, madly in love with Legolas and yet you left him for a person who you previously broke up with, thus ending your obligations to her, and who you freely admit that you loathe? Now why would I believe that you're just making up all that stuff about loving Legolas? Why is it easier to believe that you're just a cold bastard?"

"You don't understand," growled Aragorn defensively. "My father –"

"You were a grown Man, Aragorn," interrupted Gimli dismissively. "If you were old enough to engage in such an intimate relationship with Legolas then you were old enough to show a little backbone when dealing with that self-righteous Elrond."

Aragorn's cheeks burned with fury, humiliation, and shame. "You know nothing about what I went through back then," he said in a low threatening voice. He stopped suddenly when he realized something that he'd been too caught off-guard and upset to notice before. "Though apparently you have a little more insight on the whole situation than I'd previously thought. How did you find out about my relationship with Legolas? Has he contacted you in any way?"

Damn! He'd been so intent on letting the man have it that he hadn't thought about coming up with a plausible story to explain how he suddenly knew everything. It was time to think quickly. "I've spent every day since I learned that he was missing going over what could have happened to make Legolas leave everyone he cared about without a word," said Gimli deliberately. This wasn't a total lie; he'd only stopped doing this when he'd found out the answer. "The thing I kept coming back to was King Theoden's funeral processional, when the queen and her brothers were presenting their evidence that Legolas had loved the king. They talked about how his depression had come on the same day as your wedding. That always stuck out in my head, Aragorn; and just recently I figured out why."

"And the reason would be?" asked Aragorn edgily.

"There were a lot of hints that I never took into account before simply because I assumed without thinking that you could _never_ treat anyone so callously," Gimli told him while silently berating himself for being blind to the Man's faults. "The time you two vanished after the battle at Helm's Deep only to turn up later all flustered and blushing; when he didn't come back to our tent at Dunharrow until late, and how the light in his eyes dimmed from that point on. How he didn't perk up again until the time came for him to finally leave your city, the look of jealousy on your face when you saw him speaking to Eomer during the processional, and the way he couldn't look at you after you told him that he could come back to Minas Tirith when we said goodbye. How could you toy with him like that?"

"I wasn't," said Aragorn, quiet but firm. "I did hope that he would spend his time in the White City after King Thranduil didn't need him to help in Mirkwood anymore."

Gimli snorted meanly. "To live under your thumb alongside your wife?" he sneered. "You planned on keeping her as your trophy and him as your whore?"

Aragorn's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't you _ever_ call him that," he warned.

"You were the one who treated him like one," said Gimli coldly. He stared at the Man he'd once called his friend and vowed to keep Legolas' secrets about his location and his son forever if need be; and to kill anyone that would betray those. "You don't deserve Legolas; you never have and you never will."

To be continued…

_A/N: I heard from a reviewer who said that they were interested in drawing Caladel. I wouldn't mind if anyone drew any of the characters and/or scenes from any of my stories if they felt so inspired to. The only thing that I ask is that you let me know if you're going to post it and where so that I can see it too. I'd like to see how other people are envisioning the stuff that I write._


	17. The weight of the past

In the time that followed Gimli's unexpected visit, departure (on "business" the dwarf claimed, demurring from offering up any more specific details by claiming that it would be boring), return and longer stay, and then finally taking his leave for home a strange sense of calm had settled over the older elf that remained in Edoras. There was no explanation for it, seeing that he and his son were in a much vulnerable position by staying in a city of Men with very strong ties to Gondor, expect that it gave him a place to be where he could feel like he belonged. Maybe it came from living in such an isolated realm for most of his life; maybe it came from the countless years of having traveling be literally a life-threatening endeavor; but for whatever reason Legolas Greenleaf hated being in transition.

That's why he had little problem agreeing to Gimli's request to stay in Edoras while the dwarf roamed around on his various errands and why he continued to stay after that vow had effectively expired. While Legolas loved Fangorn Forest with all of his heart he never felt like a permanent resident there; most of the time it was more like he was trapped in a proverbial hole that he couldn't climb out of: he couldn't find a way to leave and yet he always knew deep down that he would have to eventually. Edoras was something else, though: the Rohirrim seemed willing to welcome the elf and his son to their chief city and Eomer apparently had no limit to his hospitality toward his unexpected guests. In fact, he'd been more than helpful over the previous several days by assisting Legolas and Caladel in setting into what looked more and more like an indefinite stay in the Golden House of Meduseld.

There were so many reasons why remaining there was a bad idea – Legolas often stayed up late at night recounting them over and over in his mind – but every time he worked up the resolve to say goodbye he'd look at his son and suddenly couldn't bear the thought of uprooting the boy once again. Where would he take Caladel anyway; back to Fangorn? While he was certain that the Ents wouldn't stop them from returning he didn't want the boy to have to go into isolation again now that he knew what he'd been missing by not living among people.

Indeed, Caladel had bloomed quite nicely during their short time there, letting his natural curiosity and sweet nature guide him through this world of new faces, things, and experiences. He had yet to spend much time among children his own age – though that would soon change now that Eomer was helping Legolas find a proper tutor and school group for him – but every day the elfling got more and more attached to Rohan's king. Eomer had been very lonely, as the rest of his family was either dead or moved away, and he enjoyed those times of instruction and play with Caladel as much as Caladel did. Legolas counted himself quite lucky that the Man was such a positive role model for his son.

Others filled in their social circle as well. Caladel spent a lot of time with several various servants in the Golden Hall, helping the chambermaids make up the beds, watching with much curiosity as the cook prepared meals and snacks in the kitchen. They in turn were determined to act as guides in helping the boy adjust to the world outside of the forest – and helping his father get comfortable around people again. Even the young soldier Alfmund, who'd been the one to spy Caladel on the bank of the Isen, visited often, having grown quite fond of the little elfling who'd been brave enough to leave behind everything that he knew in order to help his father.

Alfmund was actually the reason why Legolas was in a fretful mood that day. The Man was determined to give to Caladel in just a few short moments an experience that, in his humble opinion, he should have had a long time ago: riding a horse all by himself. _"Why, the children of Rohan more often than not can ride before they can walk steadily,"_ he'd proclaimed one day while he and the boy walked through the royal stalls, after Caladel had confided in him that he'd never ridden a horse before the day he'd left the forest and not again since. _"You should at least get comfortable with being on one that's just walking around, Caladel; as you've become a child of Rohan."_

The boy, being utterly fascinated with the animals in question, hadn't needed any more prompting. He'd immediately begged Alfmund to teach him and, when the soldier wisely refused without having his father's consent, pleaded his case to Legolas. If he was going to stay in the land of the Horse Lords, he'd insisted while his father shook his head, he was going to have to start learning how to ride. It took a lot of beseeching on Caladel's part, as well as a steady stream of reassurances from both Alfmund and Eomer that his son would be safe, but in the end Legolas had reluctantly gave in.

Pulling himself out of his musings, Legolas sighed as he glanced across the fenced-in riding arena at the young Man who'd started this mess in the first place prepare a saddle and riding blanket for his son's first ride. "He doesn't like being saddled," he mumbled under his breath. "Though I guess after all these years he's used to it."

Caladel, who was standing next to him, paused in stroking the nose of the horse that he was about to mount – and ride…all by himself to look up at his father. "What did you say, Ada?" he wondered.

"Nothing of importance," replied Legolas. The last thing he wanted to do was put it in Caladel's head that he should be riding bareback. Let him get used to the saddle first!

"Oh," said Caladel, knowing that he wasn't going to get any answers out of Legolas when the older elf didn't want to give them. "Well, I like this horse. Did you name him yourself, Ada?"

"No, Arod already had his name when he and I crossed paths for the first time," Legolas informed him, patting his equine friend on the neck as he did so. He was so happy to have the loyal horse back, especially now – there was no other steed that he could trust with his son's safety besides Arod. "He's a little too small to be an elf horse," he added, laughing a little when Arod put his ears back at the joking insult. "Though there's not been a horse that I've been more fond and proud of than Arod here."

"He's a great horse," declared Caladel resolutely. "It was really nice of Gimli to let you have him back and all."

"Gimli was never one for riding unless great need drove him on," chuckled Legolas, remembering the dwarf's difficulty in guiding Arod and staying on the horse's back during the War. It was strange – before coming to Edoras a memory like that would have depressed him for the rest of the day but now it didn't hurt as much. He wasn't sure if it was because now he knew that he could – and would – see his friend on a semi-regular basis or if it was finally being able to share his son with Gimli (and vice versa) but he welcomed the change nonetheless. "But don't let that influence you. Arod's a little stubborn when you let him get away with it but he's going to be a good horse to learn riding on. And what would also be helpful is –"

Caladel was already shaking his head before Legolas could finish his advice. "No, Ada," he said insistently. "I'm a big boy now, and I don't want to be behind the other children my age! I want to ride on my own, not have you leading me around by the reins."

"I won't be able to bear to look," Legolas tried to guilt him, staring at him with wide eyes. "I'll be too afraid that something will happen to you out there."

"And that's why I asked Alfmund to teach me how to do this and not you," replied Caladel cheerfully. Legolas wondered quietly how young he'd been when he started becoming immune to his own father's attempted guilt trips and suddenly felt very sad. "He promised to watch out for me and I told you that I'd be careful. Don't change your mind now, please!"

"I – wouldn't do that," relented Legolas, though his frazzled nerves screamed at him to pick up this son and run back to their suite inside Meduseld. Still, he couldn't try to stop Caladel from growing up without having the boy resent it, and possibly doing something extremely dangerous in a fit of rebellion. "Just remember: don't go any faster than a walk – a slow, gentle walk. I know that some of the other children can gallop already but you've got plenty of time to properly learn to go faster later. You don't need to push yourself now."

In the meantime Alfmund had carried over the riding blanket and saddle to where the two elves stood with the horse in time to overhear the last part of what Legolas had advised. "I won't say not to worry, my prince, because I know that is impossible," he said politely, "but do not let your worries trouble you too much. I would have been more mindful of Caladel's well being than I am of my own life even if King Eomer hadn't ordered it."

"That is wise, as his well being and your life are one in the same as long as my son is in your charge," Legolas told him dryly while sending a silent thanks to Eomer for understanding how he was feeling about the situation.

The elf waited until Alfmund had put the saddle in place; then he inspected it (just to see for himself that everything that needed to be tied down had been) and, when it passed muster, hoisted Caladel onto Arod's back. Kissing his son all over his face Legolas struggled to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. "Be careful, for Elbereth's sake, Caladel!" he pleaded on last time. "And do not stay on for too long – remember how sore you were after riding all day when we first came here!"

"Yes, Ada," chirped Caladel dutifully. And then they were off – his baby was now in the care of a young Man who was little more than a baby himself in elf years.

Legolas stayed where he was, rooted to the ground in amazement as he stared out at the pair. That was his son – his _baby_, his light, and his reason for living – riding Arod with a grace that suggested that, if he hadn't already been riding for all of his life, it was a crime against nature if he continued to not do so. The elf could barely wrap his mind around how much Caladel had grown up. After all, it seemed like just yesterday that he'd given birth to his precious child.

_O – Flashback – O_

_It was an almost unseasonably mild February day – a blessing, Legolas supposed, considering what he was going through. It had been mid-morning when he'd experienced his first contraction. He hadn't been too alarmed at first, as he'd been experiencing some false labor pains for about a month; but when his water suddenly broke just after he'd finished his lunch he realized that this was the real thing. Now, as the afternoon moved on, it was plan to see that his would be a relatively speedy labor. The baby was coming soon and not even the months of almost nonstop practice could have prepared him for the reality of having to deliver it himself._

_For one thing, the accommodations were less than soothing. The thick tree coverage had kept most of the snow that had fallen throughout the previous weeks off of the forest floor but what little had made it through the branches had melted, making the ground uncomfortably cold and wet. The cold didn't really bother him – though he worried about what affect it would have on his baby, who was part-Man and might very well be as vulnerable to the weather as the other members of that race – but the wet was something else. Feeling the muddy soil squish beneath him as he writhed in agony brought on by another contraction, he decided that he could do very well without it._

_The pain had come as a bit of a surprise too. He'd know that it would hurt – he wasn't _that _naïve – but he'd been planning on it being more like a bad stomach cramp and less of this abdomen-being-torn-apart feeling. As he tried to struggle through the pain to move himself in the position that he needed to be in so that he could better see what he was doing he almost cried out in agony. For the first time since entering Fangorn Forest his fears broke through his stubbornness and he wondered in a panic if he could really do this._

_Treebeard must have been thinking the same thing. He'd been faithfully bringing Legolas water since the elf realized that the big day had finally come and had observed in wonder the emerging naked emotions on his face. Waiting until the latest wave of pain had left Legolas he spoke up. "There might be people going about," the Ent mentioned tactfully. "Rangers, Rohirrim, and the like. I could attract their attention and bring someone who can be more of a help to you if you wish."_

_Legolas was disappointed in himself when he found that he was sorely tempted to have Treebeard to just that. Then it would surely be over with: he'd be found out and quite possibly reunited with Aragorn. The child would be only a few days old when Legolas would come to Minas Tirith, bringing their child to the Man and tearfully explaining everything. He almost wept as he imagined Aragorn lovingly stroking his blonde hair out of his face…the shocked look on his face when he found out that he was the baby's father…the look of denial in his eyes when Legolas mentioned that they would have to tell Arwen…staring down at the baby who'd complicated and possibly ruined his life with a mortified expression…maybe even deciding that he wanted the child after all – after he ridded himself of the infant's birthing father…_

_No! Legolas' resolve intensified and he found the strength to push himself off of his back into more of a sitting position with his back up against a tree. He'd come to Fangorn in the first place to save his child from that rejection and himself from the possibility of having it taken away from him. He'd be damned if he was going to let all of that go now because of a little extra pain! The way his life had turned out in the year past he should have been used to it by now._

'Besides,' _he thought spitefully, _'I really shouldn't trouble Aragorn with something as _insignificant_ as the birth of the child that resulted from our so-called love. He's probably too busy impregnating Arwen right now to be bothered by good old disposable Legolas right now. Make Legolas wait for a more convenient time! He'll just step aside like he should for everyone else's happiness.'

"_I can do this!" he declared in a roar as another contraction hit. He clutched at his stomach and glared up at Treebeard. "I don't need – any help! It's – me – and my – my baby – against – the world. We don't – need him, not ever!'_

"_I never said anything you needed any one person in particular," replied Treebeard carefully. He knew that he had to tread carefully once he realized what topic of conversation he'd inadvertently stumbled into. In the seven months that Legolas had been his guest the Ent had learned that anytime the elf had mentioned a _him _in such a tone that he was talking about the baby's sire. Once whoever that was entered the picture the elf became impossibly stubborn. "Just someone –"_

"_Do you know what he did to my life?" Legolas continued to rage on, oblivious to the Ent's words of protest. "He robbed it of its warmth, its companionship, its very light! I've been in a perpetual dark since the moment he left me and I won't let him be a part of this! The darkness must give way for the sunrise and that's what this baby is – my sunrise, my light – my Caladel!"_

_The contractions were coming closer and closer together and he knew that he would have to start pushing soon. Bending awkwardly, Legolas felt his back protest as it went further into the rough bark. Sudden pangs of pain attacked him from several parts of his body and he knew that, while he could get through this for his child's sake, he'd never felt so alone in his life. Feeling his hold over his emotions slipping, he mumbled something pitifully under his breath._

"_What was that?" asked Treebeard comfortingly. "Do you need me to bring you any more water?"_

_Legolas' face crumbled and he cried for the first and last time since the night that he'd found out that he was pregnant. Looking up into the Ent's kind eyes, he knew exactly what he needed and what he wasn't going to get. At his lowest point, Legolas let out a heart wrenchingly piteous scream: "I want my ada!"_

_O – End Flashback – O_

"Berry for your thoughts?"

Legolas blinked a few times, pulling himself out of his remembrance to find Eomer at his side. The Man was wearing an encouraging smile as he held out a container filled with a colorful assortment of various berries. "What did you say?" asked the elf.

"I was just trying to be funny by offering you a berry in exchange for telling me what's on your mind," replied Eomer, shaking the container a little as if offering as proof of his jest. "Of course you can have one even if you don't; but it might make you feel better if you talked to someone."

The corners of Legolas' mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Thank you," he said as he helped himself to a few blueberries. He raised an eyebrow at his friend was he popped one into his mouth. "Maybe I can use some of these to lure Caladel away from his riding lesson."

"Not likely," smiled Eomer knowingly. "You would need a much grander bribe to accomplish a feat as difficult as these."

"And yet they're supposedly enough to get me to blurt out my innermost thoughts?" questioned Legolas bemusedly. "And anyway, aren't you supposed to be offering me money in exchanged for those?"

"That's done too often," scoffed Eomer playfully. "Besides, I'd have to go all the way back to Meduseld to get some of that and these berries are right here."

Legolas snuck another one. "You just happen to be walking around with these?" he wondered.

"They're mostly for Caladel," replied Eomer, "to celebrate his first riding lesson. A boy's first solo horseback ride is a rather big deal around these parts."

"So I gathered," said Legolas wryly. His smile turned wistful as he stared out at his son. The boy was true to his word, riding around slowly while he laughed merrily. "Thank you, Eomer, for being so attentive to him; and for ordering Alfmund to take extra care of him; and for being so gracious about helping me find a tutor for him; and for giving us a place to stay; and, well, for everything."

"It's no trouble," Eomer told him. The Man was glad that Legolas was looking at Caladel; otherwise the elf would have seen how his eyes were shining. "I love having people living in Meduseld again; whatever else it may be, it's no big deal at all."

"It's a big deal to me," countered Legolas quietly. "You're very kind, Eomer; and because of that and not the berries I feel comfortable in telling you that I was just thinking about the day that Caladel was born."

"Oh," said Eomer in what he hoped was a casual tone. He'd been wanting to have this conversation with Legolas for a long time, but had been reluctant to broach the topic while he and Caladel were still adjusting to their new lives. "That must have been difficult. I don't suppose that you – had much help with that, being in Fangorn and all?"

Legolas shut his eyes momentarily. "I wasn't _all_ by myself – Treebeard was there, fetching me water from the river and putting up with more than he should have had to from his guest," he recounted faintly. "Still, I had to deliver Caladel myself. It's not something I would recommend, but the two of us managed to get through it unscathed."

"Well, unscathed or not it must have been a terrible burden to have to go through it all by yourself," said Eomer, wondering if he should ease into the more difficult topics gently or just plunge forward and hope for the best. He quickly realized that he probably wouldn't get anther chance to have Legolas talk so freely, deciding to seize the opportunity and go for it. "And I'm not just talking about the physical pain."

The elf tensed but didn't say anything; but he didn't try to leave either. Eomer took it as an encouraging-enough sign and continued on. "You must have felt very alone without the presence of your family…and your friends."

Legolas still didn't look at the Man, but he did let out a weary sigh. "It's that time, huh?" he inquired in a resigned voice. "It's time for the two of us to talk about why I don't want Aragorn to know where I am or that Caladel exists."

"I don't want to pry or push you," Eomer asserted immediately. "But I don't feel comfortable in keeping something like this a secret from a friend, an ally, and a fellow ruler, especially when that person has not bothered to disguise his eagerness to find out what happened to you; and most definitely not when I don't know the reasons why that information has to remain a secret. It's not in my nature."

"And I did make you a promise that I'd explain myself," acknowledged Legolas softly. He was silent for a moment as he searched his mind for a way to say enough to satisfy Eomer's conscience without sharing too many details. "The time came a little over five years ago when Aragorn had to make a decision."

"Concerning the rule of Gondor?" wondered Eomer. "The relationship between elves and the Men of that realm? Something more personal?"

"Well, I suppose that it was a combination of the latter two," hedged Legolas carefully. "There were reasons enough to make arguments for either option, but one of them had the power to destroy our friendship. For the sake of himself, his family, and his people that was the option that he chose and while I respect his decision I can no longer be a part of his life."

Eomer reined in his surprise. "That sounds very harsh," he noted. "You two were so close; to let one bad decision destroy that –"

"It wasn't a _bad_ decision, per say," Legolas interrupted him, not particularly interested in hearing about how harsh _he'd_ been in his rejection of Aragorn. "It's just that the nature of it ultimately made it impossible for me to let our friendship continue. He's a king now – he had to choose what was right for his people over what was right for him personally, and for me."

The Man studied his face carefully. Legolas' voice might have been calm but there was an underlying pain etched in his expression. "Perhaps he didn't realize that in making the decision he'd be ending your friendship," he suggested.

"He would have to be either a fool or a self-centered jerk – or both – if he hadn't realized that," replied Legolas tightly. "But I guess that he feels guilty about it now that I've disappeared and so has been making his inquires. Well, I didn't leave because of his decision" – that was true; he'd vanished because to hide the baby, not because Aragorn married someone else –"and I don't pretend that I can hide from him forever. Indeed I can't when so many people know –"

"No one in my realm with breath a word of all of this to anyone," Eomer broke in to assure him.

"Still, there are no guarantees and the tongue slips sometimes," said Legolas. "I'll let him know where I am one day, but right now I still need some time – a lot of time, in fact."

There was a long pause and Legolas feared that Eomer would refuse to keep the secret. "Fair enough," the Man said at length. Legolas let out a quiet sigh of relief. "And what about Caladel's sire?"

Apparently relief had come too soon. "What about him?" inquired Legolas icily.

"You shouldn't be alone," stressed Eomer. "Whoever this Man is, he owes something to you and something to Caladel. I can't stand the idea of him gallivanting around as he pleases while you bore and raised your son by yourself. He must be held accountable."

"I don't want to account him for anything!" cried Legolas a bit too loudly. He shuddered and fought to control his volume. "Don't you understand, Eomer? It's – _humiliating_. I loved that Man with all of what I was, gave him my body when he asked me for use of it, and then stood by with meek support while he cast me aside when I got to be too much of a hassle. I couldn't put Caladel through all of that."

"What?" asked Eomer, confused. "You lost me there, Legolas."

"I couldn't bear to see him cast Caladel aside with the same disregard in which he cast me aside," confessed Legolas, knowing that Eomer couldn't really understand the significance of him being able to say what he was saying out loud for the first time. It was something that Legolas feared just as much as he did Aragorn taking Caladel should he ever find out about the boy: that the Man wouldn't care about their son at all. He'd barely been able to admit that to himself but it had always been there, haunting his dreams. "I don't ever want my son to think that he's as disposable as his father is."

Impulsively Eomer seized the elf's arm. "You are _not_ disposable," he declared fiercely. "Anyone who would say or do anything that would imply the contrary is nothing but a wicked idiot. So many people care about you, Legolas." He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the fact that he was touching the prince. "Your father, for instance," he added in a consciously lighter tone as he let Legolas go. "He came here for a short while after you disappeared."

"My father stayed among Men?" marveled Legolas, his depression reaching its deepest point as he imagined Thranduil's face. "I suppose that I shouldn't be too surprised but I am. Elbereth, I miss him."

"And he feels the same way about you," Eomer told him plaintively.

"Oh, I know," replied Legolas. "I can sense how he's feeling; we elves form that strong a bond with those that we love. Even now I can feel how worried he is, and how hopeful too; for he feels me and knows that he'd know if I were dead. He hasn't given up on me yet. Ai, were that I could see him! When things got really dark out there it was Ada that I wished for."

"Do you want to send a message to him?" asked Eomer. "We could have him come to visit too, if you'd like."

There was nothing that Legolas wanted more than to say 'yes' but all the reasons why he didn't go to him in the first place were still there. "He's better off not knowing what a mess his son's made of his life," he said glumly. "Not to mention that Mirkwood is better off not having to fight my battles because of it."

"You need to get out more," decided Eomer suddenly. Legolas looked at him strangely, confused by the abrupt change of topic. "I'm serious! You're quite depressed right now; maybe it would help if you interacted with more people."

"Is that so?" asked Legolas. "And I suppose that you have something in mind."

"Yes," answered Eomer with a nod. "You and Caladel have eaten every meal in your suite since you came here, not wanting to disturb anyone or some other nonsense. Well, as of right now I ask that you both dine with me."

"For how long?"

"Until you get tired of my abhorrent table manners."

Eomer made such a silly face that Legolas couldn't resist laughing. "I accept," he smiled, "although sometimes I wonder why you even bother making an effort to cheer me up."

"Because someone as strong, good, and fair as you should have cause to smile," Eomer told him warmly, "and then do so often."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It was late at night and Eomer was still in his office, finishing up a letter and feeling guilty about it. He'd ended up spending the majority of the day with Legolas and his son, having lunch and dinner with them and accompanying them as walked the grounds in between those times. It had been a wonderful day; now he couldn't help feeling that he was about to ruin all of that. However, after his conversation with Legolas at the arena he knew what he had to do.

A knock sounded on the door. "Enter," he called.

He wasn't surprised to see a messenger come in; Eomer had summoned him, after all. "You called for me, my king?" the young Man asked.

"Yes," replied Eomer, sealing the letter and placing it in the messenger's hand. "Set out as soon as possible and in secret. I've written the instructions as to whom it's for and where it should be carried to on the envelope. You take with you my gratitude."

The messenger's eyes widened as he scanned the envelope. "Yes, King Eomer," he said breathlessly.

Eomer folded his hands and brooded for awhile after the other Man bowed and left. "I had to do it, Legolas," he whispered regretfully. "I hope that I made the right decision; but more than that I hope that you will understand – and can forgive me."

To be continued…

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. It now has over 200 of them!_


	18. You'll breathe again

_A/N: The title of this chapter comes from the song "Crash and Burn" by Savage Garden. I recently heard it for the first time in several years and immediately thought about Eomer and everything that he would want to say to Legolas. Here are the lyrics:_

_When you feel all alone  
And the world has turned its back on you  
Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart  
I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you  
It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold  
When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't take anymore _

Chorus:

_Let me be the one you call  
If you jump I'll break your fall  
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night  
If you need to fall apart  
I can mend a broken heart  
If you need to crash then crash and burn  
You're not alone _

When you feel all alone  
And a loyal friend is hard to find  
You're caught in a one way street  
With the monsters in your head  
When hopes and dreams are far away and  
You feel like you can't face the day

Chorus

And there has always been heartache and pain  
And when it's over you'll breathe again  
You'll breath again

When you feel all alone  
And the world has turned its back on you  
Give me a moment please  
To tame your wild wild heart

_Chorus_

The summer was in its failing days when Eomer, king of Rohan, walked through the corridors of Meduseld in a pensive mood. Earlier that very morning when the sun was just rising and he was the only one besides a few guards who was up and about – he enjoyed awaking early and getting a jump on the day so that he had time to do other, more pleasant things later on – he'd received news that could very well mean that summer wasn't the _only_ thing that was in its failing days. After a few weeks of quiet anticipation and absolute dread he'd finally gotten word that the messenger he'd dispatched in secret after talking to Legolas the day of Caladel's first riding lesson was finally due to return at any time.

Eomer cursed himself for being so taken aback. Why else would he have sent out that letter if he didn't want its receiver to respond to it? He'd even come right out and said in the message that he would welcome any representatives that the person wanted to send and indeed according to the reports that were whispered in his ear his chosen messenger was not returning to Edoras alone. The fact that others had come didn't surprise Eomer in the least bit and the rational part of him knew that it would be for the best in the end; but there was also a selfish part of him that was sad at this turn of events.

The last few months had been the happiest of Eomer's recent life – of his whole life, even. Why shouldn't they have been? Every morning he woke up knowing that he was going to get to see the fairest, sharpest-tongued, intelligent, and kindest person that he knew and that the person in question would be happy to see him too. That was all that even his most foolish hopes had allowed him to fantasize about, but reality had gone a step farther in bringing him happiness by making Caladel a part of his life. Once the two elves started having all their meals with him Eomer soon found that he looked forward to the boy's enthusiastic hugs and contributions to the conversation just as much (but in a different way) as he did to spending time with Legolas. It was like having a family again – as it was the Man was often content to forget that he wasn't really Caladel's sire or Legolas' romantic partner – and that made him feel more happy and whole than he'd been since Eowyn had left for Ithilien. Now it was more likely than not those days would be over with.

Still, he figured that they would have time for one more pleasant breakfast before the party of riders came and everything changed. That was why he was in the corridor and not still in his office: after nodding his thanks to the guard that passed on the information about what was coming he had left that room to go to the kitchens. If this was to be their last meal as a "family" than it was going to be one of special remembrance. With a mixture of grim determination and a sort of childlike giddiness at planning the nice meal he pushed open the doors to the kitchen and walked in.

"My king!" gasped the cook, an older woman who'd been working there since a little bit before he and Eowyn first came to live in the Golden Hall. "I was just starting your breakfast. Is anything wrong?"

So many things, but nothing that she could do anything about so Eomer shook his head. "I'm glad I got here when I did, then," he said with forced lightness. "I have some special requests for that very meal."

The woman couldn't help but gape when he detailed what he wanted to be served. "My, that's…a lot," she marveled. "Thank the Valar for kitchen help. May I inquire if it's someone's birthday? Young Caladel was just in here the other day going on about what he wanted to do for his."

"Neither he or Legolas have told me that it's his," replied Eomer politely. "And it's not anyone else's either. I just wanted to our guests to have a special meal."

"They're hardly _guests _anymore. If you'll allow me to be so bold," she smiled at Eomer, who nodded, "this seems more like the kind of treat reserved for an after-battle celebration, holidays, birthdays – or when one person wants to start courting another person."

Not many servants would dare to speak so boldly to their king even with his permission but this cook was a kitchen girl when Eomer was still a little boy sneaking treats at all hours of the day. She'd spent his formative years scolding him, and he'd looked to her more than any of the other servants for maternal advice whenever he desired it. Now both were too uncomfortable with the idea of them speaking to each other in the typical king-servant way to let it happen.

"It's a _treat_," stressed Eomer, though he couldn't stop himself from flushing just a little. Besides the fact that he was reluctant to have these incomers change his life as it was now, he really _did_ wish that the whole meal could have been about beginning the wooing process with Legolas. That was not to be, though, as Legolas was dealing with the still-fresh emotional wounds from his relationship with Caladel's sire. Any idiot could see that he wasn't ready for anything more than friendship and Eomer was no idiot when it came to Legolas – most of the time. "Nothing more, nothing less."

The cook clucked her tongue and reached for the nearest pan. "That's a pity," she commented with a touch of sadness and wisdom. "Two such nice people as yourself and the prince deserve so much more than just settling on being alone together."

"How can two people be alone if they're together?" wondered Eomer cheekily, raising his eyebrows.

"I think you already know the answer to that," replied the cook. Her face brightened up again. "Oh well, that's not for me to figure out; I have a breakfast to make. I'm going to have to ask you to scoot, your majesty; if I'm going to have all of this done by the time that your _guests_ _and nothing more_ get to the dining hall I'm going to have to start now."

Eomer laughed and dutifully left the kitchen in the old woman's capable hands. With no reason to go back to his quarters and not wanting to return to his office – trouble seemed to find him there more quickly than anywhere else – he opted to sit in the dining hall. Too bad he wasn't able to find any peace there either. As soon as he sat down at the time he found that his mind couldn't help but mull over all of the scenarios that could happen once the riding party reached Edoras from the bad to the very worst.

Time flew by quickly as he imagined all the various ways in which his heart could be completely shattered and soon Eomer was startled by a hand suddenly coming up from behind him to grasp his shoulder. "Oh, dear Valar!" he gasped before he could stop himself.

A melodic laugh came as he felt the hand move away and a second later Legolas sat down next to him. "Good morning," the elf greeted Eomer cheerfully, all while giving him a mischievous smile. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to sneak up on you. Of course, being an elf, a more experienced warrior, and a superior tracker I suppose I can't really take the blame for that – I can't help it."

"Oh, really?" asked Eomer with a quirk of his eyebrow. Legolas, it seemed, had a very keen and wry sense of humor that the Man could appreciate. Soon after they started having meals together this started breaking through his polite exterior; one thing had led to another and the two of them had established a breezy banter between them. "It would break your heart, then, to find out that I only pretend to be startled to make you feel good about yourself?"

"Not at all," replied Legolas with a grin. He leaned in close, getting almost nose-to-nose with Eomer as his blue eyes flashed good-naturedly. "I've always enjoyed a good story and that one's got to be the biggest work of fiction that I've ever heard."

It took all of Eomer's willpower not to lick his lips. They were so close; it felt like something was trying to pull him into leaning forward. In his mind he could see himself filling in the space between them and claiming Legolas' mouth in the loving kind of kiss that the elf prince always deserved…

"You two are so odd," broke in Caladel. Legolas laughed again and slid back down the bench as his son worked his way in between him and Eomer to give the Man his good-morning hug. "Carrying on like that every day like you're arguing or something! Anyone who hears you might think that you don't like each other."

Eomer smiled reassuringly as he returned the boy's embraced, grateful to him for breaking the moment before he went and did anything that he couldn't undo. "And they'd be wrong," he told Caladel grandly. "Your ada and I just have a different way of talking to each other, one that doesn't include the insincere flattery or uptight properness that comes from people who know how to control their tongues."

"He's teasing me again," Legolas informed Caladel blithely.

"How can I resist when it's so easy?" asked Eomer. He leaned down to speak to Caladel again, dropping his volume to that of a conspiratorial whisper as he added, "Never tell him this but I actually think that he's one of the finest people that I know."

"I can hear you, you know," whispered Legolas in the same tone and volume, leaning over so that his head was clustered together with theirs'. Caladel giggled. "Normally I would have to punish a person for speaking so freely about me and doing such a poor job of hiding it. Fortunately for Eomer, I happen to think the same thing about him."

Then Legolas flashed him a brilliant smile, one that was free of teasing and filled only with light, happiness, and sincerity. Seeing it made Eomer's heart grow, twist, beat faster, and burst all at the same time. He wished that these encounters could go on forever and regretted – not for the first time – his decision to send out that infernal message. Why couldn't things stay as they were? If they did have to change, why couldn't they have changed for the _better_? Somewhere, in a perfect place, Caladel and Legolas would be living in his suite, not one down the hall; they would be a family and he wouldn't have to stop himself from kissing Legolas…while the elf called him his husband…

"Breakfast is served," announced a triumphant voice from behind them. Legolas drew back and sat up straight again while Caladel slid under the table to get to the other side, where he usually sat for meals. Eomer shook himself out of his daydream. Really, he had to be more careful about where he thought about that sort of thing! The last thing that he wanted to do was one day give into his impulses and ruin the deepening friendship that he had with the elf.

The servant who had interrupted his thoughts walked forward to place a platter that was stacked unsteadily high with pancakes in the middle of the table. Once he stepped aside a boy came up from behind him to set a tray so full of pastries that one couldn't see the bottom of it down right next to the pancakes before moving aside so that a girl balancing several plates of differently cooked eggs had a place to set her burden down. Bacon followed after that, and then sausage, and then the fruit trays; this went on and on until the table was covered with every type of breakfast food imaginable.

"Wow," breathed a clearly impressed Caladel as his father poured him a glass of orange juice.

"I must agree," concurred Legolas, sounding only slightly less impressed than Caladel but much more confused. "Is there going to be other people joining us today, Eomer, or is this your way of trying to fatten all of us up?"

'_Yes, there are people coming but I'll be damned if I let them join in on this breakfast,'_ though Eomer, melancholy._ 'Please good Valar, don't let them get here until after this is over with!'_

"No," the Man answered him out loud. "It's going to be just the three of us, like it normally is. Can't a king simply feel like treating his…friends to a little something extra one morning?"

"Of course you can, and I'm glad you picked today!" declared Caladel resolutely. He grabbed his fork and reached for the closest item – the pancakes – and only paused when he felt his father's reproachful eyes on him.

Blushing sheepishly, the boy smiled in the general direction of Eomer and the servants (who were lingering by the doorway). "Thank you, Eomer; thank you everyone," he said to them. "_Now_ can I eat, Ada?"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eomer shook his head in astonishment after a full Caladel had bounded out of the room. "If I didn't know any better," he said to Legolas, "I would swear that your child is more than half a hobbit."

Legolas snorted in the kind of way that one does when they're trying not to laugh with a mouth full of juice – which was exactly the elf's predicament. "Don't do that when I'm drinking!" he scolded good-naturedly, wiping at his mouth to make sure that none of the liquid escaped. He surveyed the empty places that were surrounding his son's place and the table and cocked his head to the side. "Though I must admit that it sometimes seems that way; it would have been a very awkward joining, however…"

"Legolas!" guffawed Eomer, feigning outrage. "Is it entirely proper for a prince to tell that type of – _brazen_ – joke?"

"Brazenness seems to be the theme of the day," returned Legolas. "Really, pancakes _and _pastries? I swear, Eomer, if his tutor comes to me with tales of woe about how my sugar-riddled son won't sit still, a _part_ of your punishment will be me sending them to speak to you."

Grinning, Eomer leaned forward. "Do your worst," he challenged teasingly.

"Sire?" The king closed his eyes briefly and looked away from Legolas to the doorway, where the voice was coming from A guard stood there awkwardly, sensing that he interrupted something that maybe he wouldn't have wanted to. "My apologizes for the intrusion, your majesty – to you as well, Prince Legolas – but the party that you've been waiting for is in sight of the city's gates."

"Thank you," nodded Eomer, deliberately avoiding Legolas' questioning gaze. "That will be all."

The elf waited until the guard had left before speaking again. "There's a party coming?" he wondered. "As in a party of riders? You never mentioned anything about this before."

Eomer sighed and gripped the edge of the table with both hands. "Would you mind coming outside with me?" he asked.

"Eomer?" replied Legolas in confusion. Usually the Man wasn't so evasive and Legolas _never_ went with him to greet visitors to Edoras. "What's going on?"

"Please trust me," requested Eomer hopefully.

Legolas hesitated momentarily, uneasy with the strangeness of the situation and Eomer's reluctance to explain. But the Man had never given him reason to distrust him and when the second of stillness was over with he then rose to his feet and walked alongside his friend out off the dining hall, through the corridors, and all the way to the main doors of Meduseld. The brief trip was silent as Eomer struggled with the right words that would make his companion understand why he sent word to their visitors and Legolas worried about why the Man was being so secretive.

Only when he reached to open the doors of the Golden Hall did Eomer finally speak. "I did something," he confessed.

Every muscle in Legolas' body tensed. There was only one person that Eomer wouldn't tell him that he contacted, and only one type of message that he wouldn't tell him about until it was too late. "It's a party from Gondor, isn't it?" he demanded.

"Legolas –"

"You contacted Aragorn and told him that I was here?" he cut him off, furious and betrayed. "I thought that I could trust you, Eomer! Oh, I have to get Caladel and get out of here now!"

"No!" Eomer caught Legolas before he could go anywhere. "They're not from Gondor. I made a promise not to say anything to Aragorn and I won't break it without your consent."

"It's not Aragorn?" Legolas started breathing again. "Then who?"

Eomer smiled sadly but encouragingly at the elf as he opened the door and gestured for him to come outside. "Come and see for yourself," he said.

Against his better judgment Legolas walked out onto the top of the staircase and looked out at the party that was not entering the gates of Edoras. He was relieved to see that it indeed was clearly not from Gondor; then panic struck as recognition set in. "That's my father!" he exclaimed, backing up toward the door. Eomer stood in front of it, though, effectively blocking his escape route. "You told my father that I was here? Did you tell him about Caladel too? You had no right!"

"Hear me out, please," begged Eomer. "I didn't write a word about Caladel and my messenger knew not to say anything either. I just did what I thought was best for you and him –"

"Who are you to decide who that is?" Legolas raged.

"Well, who are you to decide that your father's better off not knowing where you are or that Caladel exists?" countered Eomer. "You think that you're protecting him, but in truth there's a part of you that's angry at him because you think he'll reject you and your son and you won't give him the opportunity to decide either way! Legolas, don't let your anger and fear that your father won't be strong enough to love you stop you from trying to mend your relationship with him. Trust me; I know what it's like for those emotions to stand between you and the person that you love as a father."

"I am not angry or afraid," snapped Legolas, glowering at him.

Eomer stood his ground. "Then prove it."

At this challenge the rest of the world seemed to grow silent until only the sound of a horse's footfalls echoed in Legolas' sharp ears. Then that noise stopped and, feeling eyes boring into the back of him, knew that a certain elf had dismounted. "Legolas?" called a familiar voice that had never sounded so tentative in all his years of life.

"Ada," said Legolas in a trembling voice. He turned around and saw his father standing at the foot of the stairs. For the first time ever he didn't know what to say to him; so he simply waved awkwardly. "Hi, Ada."

Thranduil let out a wordless cry and rushed up the steps, not stopping until he'd reached his long-missing child and engulfed him in an almost desperate embrace. "My son, my son, my son," he sobbed, burying his face in Legolas' neck.

Legolas closed his eyes when felt his father's hot tears against his skin. His own body was quivering with pent-up emotion and it was all he could do not to break down on the spot. "I'm sorry, Ada," he babbled. "I was trying to spare everyone pain but all I ended up doing was cause it. I couldn't do anything right back then and I still can't now."

"What are you saying?" asked Thranduil. He pulled away just enough to get a good look at his son and was stunned to see fear in his eyes. Legolas was afraid…of _him_? "Legolas, I love you. People make mistakes, but that doesn't mean that they can't do _anything _right. Whatever it was that you were trying to protect me from, it doesn't matter now. There is _nothing_ that can change how I feel about you. I just want to know what drove you away."

Looking down so that he wouldn't have to see Thranduil's reaction, Legolas licked his lips. "I had a baby," he admitted tearfully.

"Perhaps," Eomer cleared his throat, knowing from the look of shock on Thranduil's face and the way that Legolas hung his head that the pair would need some more privacy than the stairs of Meduseld could provide, "you two would like to come inside to talk. I'll see to the rest of your party, King Thranduil."

"Yes," said the elven king, dazed. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

Legolas spared Eomer the briefest of glances before leading his father inside the building. Knowing that it wasn't in Thranduil's nature to hold his tongue until they reached the suite that he shared with Caladel, the younger elf steered him to the first private place that he could think of – Eomer's office. "All right, Ada," he said, bracing himself as he closed the door.

"All right?" repeated Thranduil incredulously. "All right? All right what? All you told me is that you had a baby! Surely there's more to the story than that, Legolas. Where's there rest?"

"There's not much more to it," replied Legolas miserably. "I – became involved with a Man during the War. It wasn't the best idea ever to sleep with him but back then if felt like tomorrow wasn't going to come and I figured that there was no sense in waiting. I didn't find out that I was pregnant until weeks after the War was over. I decided then not to burden you or Mirkwood by coming home alone bearing my child. I didn't…"

"Legolas," said Thranduil as the younger elf's head went down again. He gently cupped his face and guided it upright until they were looking in each other's eyes. "What is it?"

"I didn't want to have to be ashamed of my baby," confessed Legolas. "He was conceived and born out of wedlock and I know how people talk, especially about royalty. But I love him more than I will ever be able to describe, even back then."

"Do you really think so little of me?" wondered Thranduil, truly hurt. He saw the tears that formed in his son's eyes but didn't fall and understood – Legolas hadn't thought so little of him, but of _himself_. "Legolas, the way that you feel about your son is the way that I feel about you: _that's _how much I love you. I've been in wars too; I know how emotions can intensify and get out of control. I wouldn't ask for you to feel ashamed, or felt ashamed myself, or tolerated anyone speaking so ill of my son and grandson. It's not your fault or his that your lover fell before you could get married…"

His voice trailed off when he saw Legolas wince. "He did die, didn't he?" asked Thranduil slowly. Legolas wordlessly shook his head. "Are you telling me that he _abandoned_ you and your child? This is unacceptable! He will have to answer for this – who is he?"

"No!" Legolas practically shrieked. "No revenge, no wars, no more fighting and death! I'm sick of it and I can't bear the thought of exposing Caladel to it too! The past is over with; let it rest, please! I chose not to tell him."

The door opened suddenly and Eomer appeared. "Oh," he said, surprised. "I didn't realize that you two were in here."

"I'm sorry," apologized Legolas. "We'll leave your office."

Thranduil dug his heels in, not willing to leave until he got an answer. "Who is the sire?" he demanded protectively. "Why would you choose not to tell him? Was he violent? Did he threaten you? I won't let him get away with it, Legolas!"

Legolas looked helplessly at his father and then over at Eomer with the same expression. It was then that the Man realized just what Legolas was protecting his father from: starting a destructive war in the name of protecting his child's honor. Why didn't he talk to the elf before his father's arrival so that he could work out a better story? Well, if Legolas had to think on his feet, he would do the same. "King Thranduil, it was a big misunderstanding."

Had Eomer figured it out? If so, Legolas couldn't him tell his father! "Eomer –"

"It's all right, Legolas," interrupted Eomer in a strange voice, giving him a meaningful look. "You see, Legolas didn't want to burden me, as my life was changing so much as it was. I understand why he did it – he's always been so overprotective of the people he cares about – but I regret making him feel like I wouldn't want to be a part of Caladel's life."

"_You're_ the sire of my grandson?" asked Thranduil, not sure if he should believe it.

"He is," affirmed Legolas hastily, just glad to have a way to answer his father's questions without starting a Mannish-elvish war.

"And are you two going to get married?" pressed Thranduil, studying their reactions closely.

"No," said Legolas. "Eomer offered, of course," he added, imagining the army of Mirkwood besieging Edoras' gates, "but I refused. You said yourself that war makes emotions feel more intense, Ada, and when we were together we thought that we were in love but we weren't. While I care about him deeply, I can't marry someone that I don't love."

Eomer could tell that Thranduil didn't quite believe it. "I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now," he said to him, though he was really addressing both elves. "I just want you to know that both Caladel and Legolas are my family now and I am proud to claim your grandson as my child."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

That night Eomer laid down on top of the covers of his bed, going over the day's events in his head. Thranduil's introduction to Caladel had gone rather like Gimli's, with the boy enthusiastically embracing him and the older elf melting on the spot. Legolas had informed him father beforehand that the boy was 'still getting used to the idea of having his sire around' so that Thranduil wouldn't talk too much about Caladel's paternity or look too surprised when he called the Man 'Eomer' and not some variant of 'Father'. That new complication would have to be sorted out the next day between him and Legolas.

Eomer was contemplating trying to sleep when a knock sounded on his door. "Come in," he called. He sat up quickly when Legolas entered and shut the door behind him. "Legolas! What are you doing here?"

Legolas opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and then opened it again. "You were right," he admitted reluctantly. "I was angry, and I was afraid because of it."

The Man didn't say anything. "I've spent so many years being angry," continued Legolas. "Angry at my father because I was afraid that he would reject us; angry at Gimli because I was afraid that he would scorn me; angry at myself for getting into this situation in the first place and dragging my innocent child into it too; angry" – tears were in his eyes and he wiped at them harshly – "angry at _him_ for putting me in this position by leaving me…"

"Oh, Legolas," murmured Eomer, getting up and hurrying to the elf's side when he saw that he was shaking. "You've been holding it in for so long. Let go; it's all right to cry."

"No it isn't," replied Legolas sharply. "I'll be letting _him_ win if I cry."

"Or you'll be letting him out," said Eomer wisely. "He's been festering in your soul for over five years now. Let yourself feel all of that now and release him."

Legolas gave a keening cry; Eomer caught him in his arms as the elf's knees almost gave out under the weight of the emotional wave. "I loved him with all that I was," sobbed Legolas, his tears, mournful and angry, falling at last. "I did everything that he ever asked of me and still he left me in the elf, all the while professing that he would always be in love with me. Why? Why did I let him do that to me?"

Eomer said nothing, knowing that there were no words to say. He just continued to hold Legolas until his sobs subsided. "I feel better," noted Legolas.

"Good," smiled Eomer softly. "It's about time."

"You're a good friend, Eomer," Legolas told him, still not moving out of his arms. "It takes a good friend to make you see how you're hurting yourself and others by being stubborn. I'm sorry that I yelled at you. It was nice of you to tell Ada that you're Caladel's sire after all of that."

"I figured that you needed some time and it was my fault for not making sure that you had it before he got here," said Eomer. "But we can find a way to deal with what I told him tomorrow."

Legolas was quiet for a moment. "Actually, if you don't mind…"

"What?" Eomer could scarcely believe it. "You _want_ me to keep claiming Caladel as mine? I mean, I'd be happy to; but why?"

"You – well, you're practically doing the duties of a sire anyway," Legolas tried to explain, pulling away to look him in the eyes. "We'll have to tell Caladel that you really aren't, of course, but I can't really think of anyone else who deserves the title of his sire more than you – if you want it."

"I do," Eomer grinned broadly. "Does that mean that you two aren't going back to Mirkwood or to anywhere else? You're going to stay?"

Legolas laughed a little. "At this rate, we'll probably be staying for as long as you'll have us."

To be continued...


	19. By heart

Life had been going well – better than well, actually – for Eomer of Rohan. King Thranduil had come and departed the realm to return to his own land without taking either his son or grandson with him. Although he hated to see Legolas and Caladel saddened by the elven king's departure Eomer wasn't entirely unhappy to see him leave – Thranduil had the tendency to look at him like he could see right through him and the Man found this quite disconcerting. The visit hadn't even been all that long, as Thranduil hadn't planned on needing to stay (guessing that either the whole message was a hoax or a mistake; or else he would find his child and take him home again after letting the horses rest for a brief time) and now that the whole ordeal of his stay was over Eomer could focus on the good times that took place then and put the more awkward moments out of his mind.

Of course, the memory that stood out above almost all of the others was of the morning after Thranduil first arrived; when he and Legolas spoke to Caladel about what they'd told Legolas' father about who the boy's sire was.

_O – Flashback – O_

_Eomer felt his cheeks flush a little as he stood awkwardly by Legolas' side. He was a mature adult (_'a king, for the Valar's sake!' _he scolded himself silently) and it was absolutely ridiculous for him to act like a swooning teenager who's been let into the bedchamber of the one he loved. It wasn't as if he'd never been in there before! Still, he hadn't stepped foot inside of the elves' suite since the day that Gimli had barged in; telling himself over and over again that he was just giving Legolas the privacy that he needed. The truth was, however, that his resolve to stay out of there had intensified in direct proportion with the growth of his feelings for the older elf._

_Spending a significant time with Legolas every day had done nothing to diminish Eomer's puppy-like crush – born out of a powerful physical attraction and the elf's unasked for but not unwelcome shows of support after the War – on him. Time revealed that, in fact, the opposite was true: the lovesick pangs that he used to get whenever he looked at his guest had deepened into a different feeling entirely. The king of Rohan felt a general sense of _completion _all the time, and his heart seemed to grow every time that he thought about Legolas, Caladel, and having the two of them in his life. He was beginning to suspect that the more-than-just-like love was quickly transforming into being _in love _– of course, if he wasn't in love with Legolas already._

_Unfortunately for him, Legolas didn't seem inclined to feel the more-than-just-like love for him, let alone actually being in love with him. Oh, there was a great deal of friendly affection between the two of them with their banter and moments of understanding and encouragement; but – at least on Legolas' end – that's all that it was: _friendly _affection. This, and the reason he suspected was behind it, broke Eomer's heart, and not just because of his own feelings. The Man wasn't selfish in his love – he greatly desired to see the elf blissful even if it wasn't with him – but there was one person that he couldn't bear to see the prince end up with and that was the same person that he assumed that Legolas had love-type feelings for: Caladel's real sire._

_It was enough to make even the sanest Man lament about the fairness of the world. Eomer's blood boiled with a fury that scared him a little bit whenever he thought about how that unworthy scoundrel had left Legolas; yet it was he who held at least some of the elf's love while blocking Legolas' willingness or ability to look for love elsewhere. Oh, it was plain to see that a lot of anger and grief had diluted what had obviously once been so pure of love that must have been there. However, the fact of the matter was that Legolas wouldn't be so wrapped up in any of those other emotions if he didn't still possess _some _feelings for the Man._

'Have hope; even if he never loves you, that doesn't mean that he will always love Caladel's sire,' _Eomer took care to remind himself. Those lingering feelings might have more to do with the fact that Legolas had internalized them for so long. He was only just starting to deal with his anger, hurt, and with them his love for the Man. Eomer could only hope that as he continued to do so he would find that he was able to let that Man go. Then, then he would be free to find love with someone more deserving of it; and that's exactly what the king wanted for him, even if that more deserving person wasn't Eomer._

_He shook himself out of his musings. All of what he'd been going over and over in his mind wouldn't be happening any time soon and no good would come from obsessing over it. Besides, the task at hand was too important to be thinking about anything else, let alone wondering about things that might never be. "All right," Eomer told Legolas in a choked voice. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady but he was so thrilled about what they were about to do that he could barely stand it. "This is it. I think I'm ready."_

"_Are you certain?" asked Legolas, mistaking the Man's almost crippling eagerness for regret and hesitation. Eomer had been so kind to him and his son; the last thing that he wanted to do was take advantage of that, no matter how unintentional it might be. It would be better not to go through with telling Caladel anything than trapping both him and Eomer in this lie. "You don't have to do this if you don't feel like you can, Eomer. I can always explain all of this to my father and try to make him understand."_

"_And what magical words to do you have that would do that without revealing who Caladel's real sire is?" asked Eomer kindly. "You've made it abundantly clear that his identity must remain a secret for everyone's sake; if you went and told your father now that I not the sire I doubt that he would settle for any explanation less than full disclosure."_

"_That may be," conceded Legolas doubtfully, "but that doesn't mean that it's fair for me to drag you into it."_

"_As I recall, I barged in on your conversation and blurted out that I was Caladel's sire without getting your consent first," Eomer reminded him. "I'm not too keen on the idea of King Thranduil thinking that I go around claiming that I've sired children when I haven't. The way that I see it, I have already declared myself to be Caladel's sire, you have already confirmed it, and now neither of us can rescind that without creating an even more gigantic mess."_

"_But I don't want you to continue to claim Caladel as your son just because we managed to talk ourselves into a corner with Ada," argued Legolas. "We've taken advantage of your hospitality enough already. People – well, people get tired of other people very quickly when they feel as if they're being forced to have them around." _

_The catch in his voice made Eomer look at him closely; Legolas met his gaze for a few moments before biting his lower lip and darting his eyes away. "Legolas," the Man asked carefully, "what did you mean by that?"_

"_I'm…I'm not used to being such a mess," admitted Legolas. "Relying on others isn't really something that I know how to do properly but I find that I've been leaning on you more than I have any other person in my entire life. I know that you must think I'm rather pathetic but I –"_

"_Don't say it, Legolas, because it's not true," Eomer asserted firmly, unconsciously taking a step toward him. "I'm not doing this because I pity either you or Caladel; nor do I feel obligated in any way. Never, ever think that I claimed to be his sire because of regretful slip of the tongue."_

"_I didn't mean to imply that your motivation was flawed," stressed Legolas. Only someone who'd spent a lot of time with him and thus knew him well could have seen through his diplomatic exterior to see how uncertain and anxious the elf truly was. "I just…"_

_He blushed and turned away. Despite everything Eomer found that he was having a hard time suppressing a huge smile. "Yes?" he encouraged him gently. "You know that you can tell me."_

"_It's just – well, I've come to value our friendship a great deal," Legolas told him with a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "And I hold your relationship with my son with just as much esteem. It would be terrible if the two of us lost those because of regrets and bitter obligations. You…you've become too important to me – to us – for that to happen."_

"_And so have you two to me," confided Eomer, his heart almost bursting at Legolas' quiet but powerful confession. He managed to resist the urge to take him into his arms again, but couldn't stop himself from resting his hand tenderly on the elf's shoulder. "Before you and Caladel came here I used to wake up every morning thinking only about what I, as the king of Rohan, had to do for my people and real that day. It was an efficient but lonely existence. Do you know what my first thoughts in the morning are now, Legolas?"_

_The elf looked up into his eyes and wordlessly shook his head. "They are of you and Caladel," declared Eomer with a little too much passion. He took a quick mental note to tone it down a bit lest he startle Legolas into backing away from his own emotions. "I think about how much I look forward to getting a good-morning hug from him before we eat breakfast, and about how much I enjoy speaking with you while we eat. I get excited about watching him discover all the new things in the world and witnessing you being his father. You're a wonderful father, Legolas; but you must know that."_

"_I try," Legolas told him quietly. "But it's nice to hear it from someone else."_

"_And I'm glad that I can do that too," Eomer tenderly teased him. "In general, the time that I get to spend with the two of you has become one of the highlights of my day – my _life_. Dear Valar, Legolas, you and Caladel have brought life back to Meduseld and made me Eomer the person – not just Eomer the king – once more. Why then do you think that I would ever regret calling Caladel my child? Is there anything in all of this that I haven't been doing that a sire would?"_

"_Nothing at all," whispered Legolas, his voice thick with emotion. As his friendship with Eomer deepened, he found himself becoming more and more surprised with how repressed he'd allowed his feelings to become. His own declarations about how important the Man was to his life and the life of his son seemed so cold in comparison to Eomer's charged declaration. The least that he could do now was be honest and try to be just as open. "Eomer, I – I – when I said that I valued your relationship with me and my son I didn't mean to sound so…distant."_

"_You didn't," Eomer reassured him._

"_Let me finish, please; this isn't easy," said Legolas, letting out a breathless sort of laughter in an attempt to disguise his discomfort. "What I should have said was that you make me feel both like I can be the best father in all the lands and at the same time that I deserve to be more than just Caladel's father. As for him, you fill a void in his life that I hadn't before been able to admit was there. I could not ask for better when it comes to my child's other parent."_

_Everything that Eomer was trying to suppress suddenly crashed through the barrier and he found that he couldn't resist the urge to hold his secret love anymore. "Come here," he urged him gently, opening his arms._

_Legolas entered into them without hesitation and wrapped his own arms around the Man's back. To Eomer it felt so natural and right to hold him as such that he closed his eyes and took a few moments to savor the feeling. "No matter how unintentional it was, or how unconventional it is," the Man said, "the three of us have become a family. If you need any more reassurances, the truth is that I pretty much considered myself to be Caladel's other father already. I might not have thought the actual words, but the feelings were all there. I suppose that I just needed a reason to say it out loud."_

"_Speaking of saying things out loud," said Legolas as he carefully disengaged himself from the king's embrace. Eomer found himself missing being that physically close to him already. "If we're resolved to go along with our story we need to get around to actually telling Caladel. If I know Ada – and I do – he won't be able to be tactful about this subject for too long; and my son will have to be prepared for his questions when they come." He stopped for a second as something he'd never thought about before suddenly occurred to him. "Our son," he amended."_

"_Pardon?"_

"_Our son," repeated Legolas, bemused. "You're going to be his sire, Eomer; we'll have to get used to calling him 'our' son."_

Our son_. It surprised Eomer to find that those words made him feel a bit bittersweet through all of his elation. This was something he'd been wanting more and more with each passing day but at the same time he knew that it wasn't real. Just because Legolas called Caladel _theirs_ didn't mean that he actually meant it – he hadn't said anything about _thinking_ of the boy as their son, after all. _'Not now, perhaps,' _thought the little part of him that never gave up hope that all of his dreams would come true. _'But you should know by now that just because something isn't happening at this very moment doesn't mean that it will never happen later. You don't want to start a relationship with Legolas now, when it might ignite instantly in the face of his pain only to burn for a short while and then die down when he's recovered, leaving only a cloud of bitter fumes. It is worth taking the time to build a strong foundation before you attempt to go and build the house.'

"_Eomer?" asked Legolas. The Man blinked, focusing his mind back on the here and now. Legolas was staring at him curiously. "I lost you there for a minute; that's happened more than a few times before. Where do you go during that time?"_

"_I just do that when I have a lot to think about," replied Eomer, hoping that he didn't sound too cagey._

"_Did I alarm you with that _'our son'_ business?" wondered Legolas regretfully. "I'm sorry – maybe we should establish some boundaries –"_

_Eomer waved his hand to cut him off before he led the conversation down that road again. "I was just trying out the phrase in my head," the Man reassured him. "I like it."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Oh, yes; rolls off the tongue quite nicely."_

_That got a laugh and an eye roll out of Legolas. "You sound just like a hobbit, or at least the hobbits that I've met," he commented. With a nod and a steeling breath he walked over to Caladel's bedchamber door, Eomer at his heels. "Here goes nothing. Caladel!"_

"_I'm almost ready to go to breakfast, Ada!" the boy called back._

"_Eomer and I would like to speak with you for a moment or two if that's all right with you," replied Legolas. "May we come in so that we don't have to keep shouting?"_

"_Sure," said Caladel in a cheerful tone. "The door's not locked."_

_Indeed it wasn't; the handle gave easily and soon the elf and Man were in the bedchamber. Caladel was standing in front of his vanity mirror; he turned to face them as they entered and they were able to get a really good look at him. The boy was dressed appropriately enough for a meal that would include his grandfather but his hair looked as if, well, as if a four-year-old had attempted to fix it up. "I tried to do the braids," noted Caladel unconcernedly. "It didn't work."_

_Legolas shook his head in a 'why me?' sort of way. "I can see that," he said wryly. Marching across the room, he took the boy's hand, leading Caladel over to the bed and urging him to sit down at the edge. "Let me see if I can detangle it. I think that we can take a few extra minutes to get down to breakfast if it means that your grandfather _won't_ take one look at you and decide that I'm a hopelessly incompetent father. Eomer and I need to talk to you before we go to the dining hall anyway."_

_As if that were his cue Eomer sat down next to Caladel on the bed, smiling apprehensively under the boy's curious stare while Legolas went to grab the comb and a few hair ties before hurrying back to settle down on the elfling's other side. Caladel's eyes darted back and forth between them, his expression growing more and more inquisitive as each silent moment passed. Eomer found that his nervous stomach was getting queasier. How were they going to explain all of this to someone that age in a way that he would understand? He was a grown adult and even _he_ could barely wrap his mind around it. Thankfully (for Eomer, at any rate) this task would fall mainly on Legolas, with him there to provide support, affirmation, and supportive arguments._

_The elf didn't seem to know where to start either. "My son," he finally said as he combed and braided. "What do you know about sires?"_

"_I didn't mean to listen," answered Caladel promptly._

"_What?" wondered Legolas, pausing to give him a strange look._

"_You never told me anything about him, but you know that I know some things and you know how I found them out," said Caladel. "All right, I did listen sometimes when you and Treebeard talked after I was supposed to go to sleep but I couldn't help it! All I found out was that he was a Man and that I don't look like him at all."_

"_I didn't mean to imply that you were in trouble in any way," said Legolas, definitely uncomfortable with how personal the topic had gotten – especially in Eomer's presence. "I just wanted to find out what you knew about sires. All of that is true about yours, but what do you know about sires in general?"_

_Caladel frowned. "I don't know what you mean by that," he said bluntly._

"_Well, how do you think that a sire should act?" pressed Legolas as he combed a bit of the elfling's snarled hair smooth. Caladel hissed at the sting to his scalp and Legolas bent down to kiss it better before continuing about his business. "You've seen your friend's sires – how they act around their children – and heard your friends talking about them. Now you've had the chance to see your grandfather – _my_ sire – with me. Based on all of that, what do you think that a sire should be like?"_

_Caladel thought hard for a moment, crinkling his brow in an adorable way and tapping his finger against his chin. "Nice, I guess," he said at last. "Bedric's sire was really nice to me the last time I went to his home. And Thedlef's sire once took us to see where he keeps his carving tools, and even showed us how to make stuff. Oh, and Godrun's sire comes down to watch him ride his horse whenever he can. And Grandfather, Ada – he loves you _a lot_. He always looks so happy every time he sees you, even when you've only been gone for a second!"_

"_So, according to all of that we see that a sire is nice, goes to riding lessons whenever he can, show you things about the world, and is always happy to see you," recapped Legolas, brightly but serious. He put down the comb for a second and gently turned his son's head so that the boy was facing him, looking at him with those large blue eyes. "That sounds right to me. Now I must ask you to think, Caladel: do you have anyone in your life right now who fits all of those requirements?"_

"_You, of course, Ada," replied Caladel cheerfully._

_Legolas kissed his forehead and resumed the work on his hair. "Yes, I suppose that I do that," he said with false modesty. "But is there anyone else?"_

_The boy opened his mouth but ended up letting out a short yelp instead of saying any words when the comb encountered a particularly nasty snarl. Eomer instinctively grabbed his hand comfortingly. Caladel gave him a grateful flash of a smile before his eyes lit up with realization. "Eomer's like that too!" he declared._

"_Huh," said Legolas as if he'd never thought of that before. Maybe it would be easier for Caladel to accept it if he thought that it was his idea. "I guess then that you could say that Eomer is your sire."_

"_But he's not," argued Caladel in confusion. "He couldn't be."_

"_Why not?" wondered Legolas, his heart breaking a little. In all of the worrying he'd done between deciding to ask Eomer to continue to claim Caladel as his and this moment he'd never once thought about what if the boy didn't _want_ the Man to take on that responsibility. They just seemed so close that he'd assumed that it was a given._

_The boy grabbed a lock of hair, holding it out from his own head before doing the same to one of Eomer's and holding them side-by-side for comparison's sake. "I know already that I don't look anything like my sire," he explained. "And my hair looks kind of like Eomer's – more like his than yours, Ada. That's why it can't be him."_

_Oh, the humility he constantly found at the hands of his child! Legolas felt guilty about trying to confuse and manipulate Caladel into seeing Eomer as his sire. Was that boy not of his flesh and blood, capable of seemingly boundless love, and possessing a high level of intelligence and empathy? Maybe if he stopped acting so Elrond-esque and just explained the reasons why he was willing to trust the Man with such an important task then his innocent son might understand. "My dear son," he said, wrapping his arms around him._

"_What?" wondered Caladel. This was a really funny conversation! "Did I get it wrong?"_

"_No, I did," replied Legolas. "I should have told you right from the start that there are two different types of sires: sires by blood, who help create the child; and sires by heart, who love the child no matter what. Now, one male can be both, like my father and those of your friends', but there are times when he's only one or the other. A sire by blood might not be able to be around, and the other parent finds someone else, someone who wants to be a sire by heart. That's what Eomer is; just because he didn't help me create you doesn't mean that he can't be your sire by heart."_

"_I was lucky enough to have two sires by heart," spoke up Eomer, catching on quickly to what Legolas was explaining. He put his arm around Caladel, who still looked a little perplexed. "My own father helped my mother create me and he loved me with all of his heart, so he was both blood and heart. After I lost both of my parents I came here to live with my uncle and he became my second sire by heart. He didn't help create me or my sister Eowyn, Caladel, but when he called us his son and daughter he meant it with all that he was. And, if you are willing, I will mean it just as much as he did if I am allowed the privilege of calling you my son."_

"_You want that?" asked Caladel slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe it. When Eomer nodded the boy looked to Legolas. "What about you, Ada? Do you want it too?"_

"_Yes, but only if that's what you want," said Legolas sincerely. "I'm sorry that I didn't ask you first; I should have because in the end it's going to be your decision. Neither of us will be angry or hurt if you want to tell us no, so don't let worrying about that influence you. It is solely your choice."_

_Caladel folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them for a second. Then he unclasped them and slipped one of each into the two adults' hands. "What would I call you?" he asked Eomer. _

"_Does that mean you want me to be your sire?" asked Eomer with a brilliant grin._

"_Yes, silly!" scolded the boy happily, looking very much like his ada's son as he teased Eomer. "I wouldn't need to call you something different if you were just going to stay 'Eomer.' I can't call you 'Ada'; that would be too confusing; and 'Father' doesn't sound right either. What did you call your sires?"_

"_Well, I called my uncle 'Uncle'," reported Eomer ruefully. He had a feeling that he'd be providing father and son with ample material to tease him with for years to come and that thought made him feel giddy. "That's not really right for this situation; but I called my father 'Papa'."_

"_Papa," Caladel tested out the word. "Papa," he repeated, this time making a popping noise with his lips as he pronounced the two p's. "Papa, Papa, Papa – that works. All right; you can be my Papa."_

_Eomer impulsively threw his arms around the boy. "I'm glad," he said joyfully._

"_I have an Ada and a Papa," marveled Caladel. He immediately flung himself onto Legolas' lap as soon as the Man let him go. "Are you happy, Ada?"_

"_I am," replied Legolas, though both his tone and his smile were bittersweet. Memories from long ago stirred within him and he realized that more time would be needed before he could think about putting all of that behind him. But he wasn't lying about being happy. "You desire to have the best sire in all of Middle-earth and now we've got you one that has a chance at earning that title."_

"_My sire by heart," mused Caladel. "He didn't help create me but he loves me like he did. Ada – Ada _and _Papa – how do sires help create children?"_

"_That is another long conversation, one that we don't have time for now," said Legolas, smooth even with his voice rising about an octave. He picked up the comb and resumed work on Caladel's braids. "Let's just work on these braids right now – we're late enough for breakfast with your grandfather as it is!"_

_O – End Flashback – O_

The three of them had been so happy since then. How, Eomer wondered dully, had they gone from that to this announcement in such a short amount of time? "I'm taking Caladel to Mirkwood," Legolas told him that afternoon in his office while Caladel was with his tutor.

"Why?" asked Eomer, proud when his voice didn't croak or crack.

"Because it will be too difficult to travel there any later in the year," answered Legolas simply.

Eomer stared at him helplessly. He couldn't _order_ Legolas to say and didn't want to hold him prisoner anyway; but he couldn't think of any other way to guarantee that he wouldn't take _their_ son and go off. "Tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. "What's happened that's making you two leave? Maybe I can help fix it."

"What?" Legolas looked bewildered for a second before he understood and smiled compassionately. "No, no – I didn't mean it like that. It's just that Ada wanted to spend more time with us, but he couldn't stay away from Mirkwood any longer and he can't really get away again. I'd like to see the forest again, and I'd like Caladel to get to know his family and the elvish people while he still can. We'd need to leave soon so that we can travel there and back before the snow and ice come. I wouldn't just take him without talking about it with you first, Eomer; not after all that's happened between the three of us."

"All right," said Eomer, exhaling loudly. "I was – wait one moment: why would traveling be any more difficult in the winter? I thought that cold didn't affect elves."

Legolas' smile turned deliberately charming. "Caladel wants _you _to join us," he said. "Ada's already said yes, and I wouldn't mind having you along either; to tell you the truth I've grown accustomed to your presence and your abhorrent table manners."

"How can I say no to an invitation like that?" wondered Eomer jokingly. Inside, though, his heart was rejoicing. "If you're sure that I wouldn't be intruding" – Legolas shook his head – "then I accept. Let me have a few days to arrange something with Gamling and Elfhelm and I'll be ready. This should be fun! I've heard that Mirkwood is a very – _interesting_ – place."

To be continued…


	20. The Woods of Greenleaves

Ever since he found out that Legolas had chosen Fangorn Forest of all places to hide himself and his son when practically all of Eriador was largely uninhabited and relatively safe after the War Eomer had wondered about why he'd made that decision. Now with each passing minute that they spent riding deeper and deeper into the forest of Mirkwood it was getting easier for the Man to understand. While Legolas' homeland wasn't as ancient as the woods of the Ents (one didn't need to be a wood elf to feel the immense age of Fangorn after being in it once) and didn't have all of the same types of trees, they both had a similar quality about them. Neither place would be one that Eomer would choose to go on his own, or miss if he was away from it for too long.

Mirkwood, like Fangorn, was dark, with the sunlight managing to break through the heavy tree cover only sporadically, and it felt just as perilous and ominous. Eomer could practically feel the spirit of the forest warning him that any stranger there could _try _to learn its secrets and lay claim to its treasure but the price that would have to be paid would be terrible. Nature there didn't function like it did in most places in the world – as a backdrop, a passive setting where the more active lives of people could take place. It was, for lack of a better description, _alive_ to a degree that the Man had only witnessed anywhere else briefly once before: when Fangorn got its revenge against the uruk-hai at Helm's Deep and the nerve-wracking ride through the deadly forest afterwards. All around him he could swear that he could hear the trees whispering.

"_Don't worry, Papa," _Caladel had tried to reassure him when something sounding very much like a hiss had made the Man nearly jump out of his skin. _"They're talking, but not about you."_

"_For the most part," _the elven guard who'd greeted him, Legolas, and Caladel near the boundaries of the forest felt the need to add.

"_Well, I suppose that they are talking about you a little,"_ conceded Caladel when Eomer threw him a pleading glance. _"But it's not really anything too bad. Mostly they're just happy to have Ada with them again and they're wondering who the strangers are that are coming with him. It'll be a while before they'll really accept that I'm his son and you're my sire, but only because it takes a long time for a tree to change in any way unless it really needs to."_

Still, Eomer couldn't help feeling that the trees were much more accepting of Caladel than they were of him. The essence of what Legolas was practically radiated from his son while he himself was not only a stranger but a strange race to the woods. Yes, he was sure that the looks of curiosity and whispers of cautious greeting that they were giving the boy changed into dark threats when they turned their attentions to Eomer. It felt to him as if they were taking great pleasure in glaring at him. Of course, that feeling probably also came from the fact that their escort had spent pretty much all of their trip glaring at him as well.

It had been a pleasant enough greeting for the elves when Legolas spotted him lingering at the edge of the forest and waved enthusiastically, but a terribly awkward one for Eomer. The guard apparently knew Legolas beyond what was usual for a citizen to know the realm's prince – Legolas had quickly explained that they had been a part of the same border patrol before, one that had been broken up shortly before he'd become a part of the Fellowship of the Ring for reasons that neither one seemed to eager to rehash – and had greeted him with just as much enthusiasm, going on and on about how everyone was thrilled to hear that he was well and how they couldn't wait to have him back in their midst.

Then he'd turned his attentions to the two people who were accompanying his long-absent prince. To Caladel he was equally polite, curious, and warm; not letting a single negative emotion that he might have felt slip through (which was a fairly admirable task, as the elfling hadn't been at his best, having been in a sullen mood since leaving Edoras without getting his own horse to ride). The guard didn't seem taken aback at all about the fact that the boy was part Man; Eomer had assumed that King Thranduil had let his people know about this beforehand so that no one could use surprise as an excuse for saying anything thoughtless. In answering the questions that must have followed that announcement the elven king had to have told them about Eomer's claim; perhaps that had been why the guard went on to glare murderously at him before offering up the coldest, most curt welcome that he could reasonably get away with. The Man was under the distinct impression that, beyond blaming him for Legolas running away all those years ago, the guard believed that he wasn't good enough to have anything to do with Mirkwood's prince. From that moment on the ride to King Thranduil's cavern palace couldn't get over with fast enough for Eomer.

Caladel would have agreed with him had he known his papa's thoughts, though not for the same reasons. Usually he would have enjoyed this part of the journey because it gave him the chance to be among trees again; for all its wonders Rohan (at least around Edoras) was distinctly lacking in trees and there were still times that the boy felt more at ease around them that he did around people. That day, however, he was too busy bursting with excitement and curiosity to appreciate his wooded surroundings. He couldn't wait to see the heart of the land that his grandfather ruled and where his ada grew up! Stories of that place that fueled Caladel's imagination had been prominent in Legolas' tales when the two lived in Fangorn. Now, after seeing how much better some of the other things in those stories were when he came across them in real life, he had to know how the real Mirkwood would compare. So far it hadn't disappointed him but the real test still laid ahead.

"Are we almost there?" he asked Legolas, shifting uncomfortably on Arod's back.

"Patience, ion nin," admonished Legolas gently as he gave the boy a reassuring pat on the back. "I promise that we'll be there soon enough. We're already closer to where we're going than we are to where we came in."

"And what you find once you reach your destination will be worth the wait," added the guard with a mysterious smile. "King Thranduil has been making plans for your arrival ever since he returned. To be honest I don't know how he managed to refrain from extending his invitation to you for as long as he did."

"Dear Elbereth, what is he up to now?" wondered Legolas with a little trepidation. His father wasn't exactly known for his ability to remain understated when people he cared about were involved, so the possibilities were endless. "You might as well tell me, mellon nin; I swear that I will act surprised when we get there but I'd like to have a little time to prepare for whatever it is."

"It's no secret," replied the guard. "He figured that you'll be at the palace by the time of the noon meal and he's taken great pains to plan a feast of remarkable magnificence to be ready when you arrive."

Considering that it could have been something much more embarrassingly extravagant Legolas knew that he should have been relieved; unfortunately what he was feeling was the exact opposite. "A feast?" he repeated, unable to keep all of his dismay out of his voice. While he loved his people and had missed them terribly during his years of exile the prince couldn't fathom having to face a large crowd of them at the end of his journey. He would need at least a few hours to collect himself and find his bearings again before he could publicly own up to the fact that he'd abandoned them in their hour of need and beyond!

The guard immediately understood his hesitation. "Yes, a _private_ feast," he stressed with a hint of a comforting smile. "The king has had the kitchen staff hopping since before I set out to meet you to make a special meal for just him, you, and your son." His expression grew almost pained as he turned to Eomer. "I suppose that you will be invited as well."

"It is very hospitable of King Thranduil to include me in his time with his family," said Eomer diplomatically, though he wasn't sure what would make him more uncomfortable: being sent off somewhere while Legolas and Caladel ate without him or spending an entire meal under the elven king's penetrating stare. But there wasn't a proper response to convey that feeling ad he didn't want to do or say anything that would make the guard even more hostile toward him.

Legolas rolled his eyes and made a face. "Yes, I guess it would," he said sharply, looking at the guard just as much as he looked at Eomer while he spoke. "Especially since you are Ada's _guest_. It would be hospitable of him to treat you accordingly."

Caladel, either not comprehending the tension between the three adult or else choosing not to acknowledge it, stared up innocently at the guard. "Do you know what kinds of food there will be?" he wondered.

"I do not know the exact menu," the guard replied in a kind tone. "But I imagine that there will be all different times; enough to suit every kind of taste that you may have."

"Like what?" persisted Caladel, undiscouraged after not getting the answer that he'd been looking for. He was, after all, his ada's son, who was in turn _his _ada's son; he was the third generation of a line of stubbornness. Giving up and settling for less just wouldn't do. "I don't mean to be so nosy –"

Legolas made a noise that sounded distinctly like he was trying to rein in a snort.

-"But different places have different foods," continued Caladel, oblivious to his ada's amusement. "You see, when I lived in Fangorn Forest I could get certain kinds of foods there; and now that I live in Edoras I can get certain types of foods there too. Sometimes there are foods that I can get in both places but other foods – like those special nuts that Quickbeam, Ada, and I used to pick, or the pastries in Rohan that Fredwyn the cook makes – that I couldn't get in the other place. Do I hear water?"

"Yes," Legolas couldn't help laughing, both in happiness when he recognized the sound of that particular body of water and at the guard's bewilderment. Caladel was hard to have a conversation with at times because he lacked a long enough attention span and didn't care about making all of his thoughts flow together easily. "The forest river is right before us."

"A river?" Caladel's ears perked up. After months of having to bathe in a confining little tub he was around a river again! "May I go swimming in it, Ada? Please?"

"Absolutely not," declared Legolas cheerfully. "Nor should you want to, unless you wish to take a _very _long nap that's full of strange dreams."

The boy's expression conveyed his disappointment for a second before he realized what his father was talking about. Then his face brightened in wonder and his clapped his hands. "It's the enchanted river, isn't it!" he exclaimed gleefully. "That one from the story with the dwarves in it. Oh, I've heard you talk about it and Gimli talk about it and now I get to see it for myself! I have to see it now; please, Ada? I promise I won't take too long."

"Or set one toe in it," prompted Legolas.

"Or set one toe in it," repeated Caladel eagerly.

"That will be fine then. Here, my friend," Legolas gestured for the guard to come closer. When the elf complied accordingly, Legolas picked up his son and plopped him down in front of him on the other horse. "Take my child down to the river and _mind him_, as he sometimes has trouble following instructions when he gets excited. There's no need for all of us to go down there since it won't take too long so I think I'll just stay here and keep Eomer company."

"Of course, my prince," said the guard, and he took off with the elfling.

Eomer waited for a few moments after the pair had departed before he spoke. "Do I want to know why you're here keeping Eomer company instead of having both of us go down to the river with our son?" he asked, attempting to be funny.

"I'm sorry, Eomer," said Legolas.

Not even a smile. The elf must have been more caught up in whatever was bothering him than he thought. "Whatever for?" pressed Eomer.

"For the way that the guard's been treating you all this way," replied Legolas guiltily, nodding his head in the direction of the path that the guard had ridden down with Caladel. "You're a guest here and do not deserve to be treated so scornfully."

"I'm a big boy," joked Eomer, hoping to console him. "I can handle it."

"But you shouldn't have to," argued Legolas. "Oh, I'd hoped that it wouldn't be an issue, but…"

"I understand why he doesn't like me, Legolas," Eomer tried to reassure him. "To your people I'm the person who got you pregnant, drove you away with my neglect, and now apparently lacks any of the good graces that would convince you to marry me. Honestly, I would have been shocked if there hadn't been a _little_ hostility toward me."

Legolas wiped his hand down his face. "There's more to it than his issues with you personally," he informed him. "You're a _Man_."

"And the elves of Mirkwood dislike Men?" asked Eomer, feeling a bit more uneasy. He remembered Legolas' surprise when he'd told the elf that Thranduil had stayed in Edoras for a time while he was looking for his son; and cursed himself for not connecting that to a bigger issue until now.

"It's not that exactly," Legolas explained regretfully. "It's got more to do with the fact that they don't know a lot of Men personally and that they tend to distrust what they don't know. We are very isolated out here, and the spiders and orcs that used to roam the forest freely further discouraged anyone from coming. We rarely get any visitors, let alone members of other races. Elbereth, it's…"

Damn! Why did memories of Aragorn have to pop up like that? There were more important things to think about! "It's been over seventy years since a Man's spent a significant amount of time in Mirkwood and a good six or seven years since one has stepped foot in the heart of the realm at all. As a result, most people's perceptions of Men are colored by the telling and retelling of the story of Isildur succumbing to the temptation of the Ring."

"I can see why that is," said Eomer graciously. "Please don't be disappointed that those perceptions are still in place – it will take time to heal that wound. I can deal with whatever attitude people might have toward me in the meantime."

"I'm worried about Caladel," Legolas admitted suddenly. "You are a good person, Eomer – strong and considerate – and an adult; but he's just a child, and one that's not very familiar with the way people act at that. He wouldn't understand why people might be mean to him for something that he has no control over. I can't stand the thought of someone being deliberately cruel and rude to him just because of his Mannish blood."

"From what I've observed when it comes to your father I'm sure that he'll probably have some ghastly punishment in store for anyone who'd treat his grandson so poorly," noted Eomer sagely.

He reached out and squeezed Legolas' arm cautiously. The elf rewarded him by nodding, smiling slightly, and patting the hand that was on him. Eomer's heart skipped a beat. "Take heart, Legolas," he went on. Thank the Valar that his voice still sounded normal! "He is your son too and it would be difficult for even the most prejudice person to ignore that fact whenever they look at him. Any fool will see more of you in Caladel than any of his _few_ Mannish features. Besides," he added in a lower, conspiratorial tone, "by the time I leave there they'll all be so impressed that they'll be begging to have Men sire all of their children."

That got a huge guffaw out of the prince. "I highly doubt that," he snorted. "No offense to you and your charms but no one is _that_ good."

"You only say that because no one's been _that_ good before," protested Eomer good-naturedly. "I'll have you know that I happen to grow on people more than they would ever imagine."

Legolas' expression softened, becoming more serious but warmer too. "That you do," he agreed quietly.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Thranduil was waiting outside the doors of his cavern palace when the riding party he'd been waiting days for finally arrived. "Ada!" Legolas called out to him as he brought Arod to a halt.

That was all the invitation that the older elf needed. With a wide grin on his face he rushed forward. Once he was beside the horse Legolas leaned down enough to kiss his forehead before helping Caladel ease off into his grandfather's awaiting arms. "My sweet Caladel," said Thranduil happily, hugging him as tightly as he could without hurting him. Legolas burst out laughing as he too dismounted; as soon as his feet hit the ground he was included in the embrace. "My precious Legolas. Oh, welcome at last – welcome home!"

Eomer said nothing as he watched the three elves together, so in awe was he at how radiant Legolas looked when he was that happy and how content their son looked. For a moment he almost regretted that the two _weren't_ going to be staying in Mirkwood permanently; but then he reminded himself that they were staying in Edoras because of Legolas' decisions, not his. Maybe one day Legolas and Caladel would have those same looks in Rohan; for now he was just content to stare.

He could have watched them like that forever and would have for at least several more minutes if his stomach hadn't growled quite loudly. "Excuse me," he said in embarrassment when the trio broke apart to look at him.

"No, it is I who should be asking for your pardon," said Thranduil cordially. Though he still wasn't sure what to make of the Man who'd professed to be his grandson's sire, being so openly rude as to ignore him for so long wasn't acceptable behavior. Besides, this Eomer had become important to the elven king's son and grandson and Thranduil didn't want to risk alienating either one of them so soon after getting them back in his life. "Welcome to Eryn Laesgalan, King Eomer."

"Thank you, and please call me Eomer," replied Eomer, sliding off of his horse and returning the elf's formal gesture of greeting. He silently thanked Legolas for teaching it to him, as Thranduil looked surprised and faintly impressed to see him do it. "It is a very lovely realm – I beg your pardon, but did you say 'Eryn Lasgalan'?"

"I never cared much for calling it 'Mirkwood'," said Thranduil merrily. "This forest was once the 'Greenwood.' 'Mirkwood' began as a derogatory term and it stuck as the name became increasingly apt. The Shadow is gone now and we've done much to heal the wounds of the realm; I refuse to call it Mirkwood any longer."

Legolas' cheeks and the tips of his ears were red. "Then call it 'Greenwood' again," he suggested hopefully. Thranduil simply smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"What's wrong with calling it Eryn Lasgalan?" asked Eomer inquisitively. "I don't understand what it means but it sounds – right somehow. It's quite a beautiful name."

"You're hungry, are you not?" asked Legolas pointedly. Eomer sheepishly noted the change in subject and nodded dutifully, all while wondering at the elf's reaction. "Well, so am I. Caladel must be too, and Ada has a feast inside waiting for us to eat it. Let's not waste time now with idle chit-chat." He turned to the guard who'd traveled with them. "Thank you for accompanying us – it was wonderful to see you again! Will you see to the horses and make sure that the servants take care of our luggage?"

When the elf nodded Legolas gave him a quick nod of thanks, turned, and walked swiftly inside. Eomer and Thranduil (who was still carrying Caladel in his arms) had to rush a few steps to catch up. They walked together in silence for a few minutes before Thranduil spoke up. "It means the 'woods of greenleaves'," he said. Legolas shot him a withering look, to which the older elf winked at in response. "Translated into the Common Tongue Eryn Lasgalan means the 'woods of greenleaves'."

"That's like your name, Ada, a part of it meaning greenleaves and Legolas meaning greenleaf and all," pointed out Caladel, giggling when his father blushed some more and scowled.

"Really, Ada, couldn't you have called it something else?" asked Legolas, somewhat mortified. It seemed so inappropriate to name a realm after the prince who'd essentially abandoned it when it needed him most.

"I am the king," replied Thranduil blithely, "and I shall call my realm whatever I want to call it."

As he stated that right the four came upon the doors that led into the dining hall. The elven king opened them with a flourish and Legolas, Caladel, and Eomer gasped at what they saw on the elaborately decorated table. "Ada," breathed Legolas, staring at the long train of food that would have easily fed every person in Eryn Lasgalan twice over. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

"I didn't," said Thranduil cheekily. "The kitchen staff did. Now eat up! Don't let their hard work and spectacular results go to waste!"

Caladel was the first one at the table, hurrying over as soon as his grandfather put him down. "Thank you," he said dutifully to Thranduil as the older elf and his parent sat around him. "Thank you!" he added in a shout toward what he assumed was the door to the kitchens before he started loading up his plate.

"Slow down, ion nin," scolded Legolas, though he supposed that he have been grateful that the boy managed to maintain _some _of his table manners. Perhaps there was some hobbit blood in him after all. Shaking his head at that absurd thought the prince reached for a nearby wine bottle. "There's more food – Ada!"

"It's a special occasion," protested Thranduil before his son could say anything else.

Eomer cleared his throat. "What is it?"

Legolas lost his incredulous expression as he gave the Man what could be considered a calculating look and poured Eomer a glass of what looked to be a wine of a deep red color. "This is a bottle of Ada's prized Dorwinion," he explained as he turned his attention – and the bottle – to his own glass. "It's the finest wine in all of Middle-earth and therefore not brought out of the cellar often."

"Well then, it was generous of your father to do so now," declared Eomer with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, for he didn't much care for wine. That quickly changed, however, once he took a sip; not only was it delicious but it was very strong too. Even with years of ale-filled celebrations under his belt the Man knew that he wouldn't be able to handle much more of it; he was sure that he couldn't drink more than one glass without becoming embarrassingly tipsy. "My goodness! Are all elven wines so…"

"Potent?" supplied Legolas mischievously. "No, none are as potent as the Dorwinion, but – well, let's just say that drinking the others has helped me build up more of a tolerance to this than you'll ever have."

"Indeed," agreed Eomer, examining the liquid in the glass with a somewhat shocked look on his face. "I guess that would explain how you were able to drink through over a barrel of ale without suffering anything more than tingling in the tips of your fingers."

Thranduil took a sip from his own glass. "Ale," he repeated thoughtfully. "I've heard of that before but I'm afraid that I'm not exactly sure what it is."

"It's water with a hint of alcohol in it," replied Legolas wryly, smirking at Eomer. "I had the pleasure of trying it one night during the War after a great victory. My friend Gimli challenged me to a drinking competition and ale was the beverage of choice. He didn't stand a chance – in fact, he ended up not standing at all."

"Legolas!" scolded Thranduil in a classic paternal tone. "Gimli is that dwarf, is he not? I'm shocked at you! The next thing you're going to tell me is, I don't know, that after you indulged him you took your braids out and danced on a table for everyone else's amusement."

"Oh, Ada, I couldn't dance on the table," said Legolas innocently. "There were two hobbits that beat me to it."

"And he never would have unbraided his hair," added Eomer. "I've never seen it down – he doesn't like to wear it that way."

The elf prince gave him a surprised look. "How did you know that?"

"You said so," Eomer reminded him; "at that breakfast in Minas Tirith right before my uncle's funeral procession."

"That was mention in passing over five years ago!" marveled Legolas with a shake of his head. "Really, Eomer, you remember the strangest things sometimes."

Thranduil was staring at the Man again in the familiar way: as if he could see right through him. Eomer was suddenly very uncomfortable; thankfully he was released from the scrutiny soon enough when the elf looked away again. "Well, there's more than just wine here," pointed out Thranduil brightly. "Eat up!"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

This was not a situation that Eomer wanted to be in. After lunch Caladel had begged to see Legolas' old bedchamber. Thranduil had urged the two off – leaving the Man alone in his company. Now he was studying Eomer closely and frowning at what he apparently saw there. "You are not Caladel's sire," he said.

"I will say that I am until the day that I die," responded Eomer.

"I have no doubt about that," said Thranduil in a knowing tone. "Legolas chose well when he asked you to take on that job. He might have been a little too anxious to keep the truth from me to consider what your intentions were when you claimed it, however."

"I love Caladel and Legolas – is a dear friend," said Eomer as calmly as he could. "My only intention to be there for them."

"You cannot fool me; you are in love with my son," declared Thranduil. "I've see how you look at him, and how you remember little things about him. If you wish to keep any respect that I have for you, you will not deny it."

Eomer looked him in the eyes. "I won't," he said. Despite everything it felt so good to not have to deny it! "I am in love with Legolas."

"He does not love you back," noted Thranduil. "So why are you torturing yourself so? Do you hope that he'll feel that he owes you something?"

"He owes me nothing," insisted Eomer vehemently. "My love for him is freely given and I will not push it on him. If he ever chooses to be with me I will rejoice but I will never force him into anything!"

"Now I know beyond a doubt that you are not Caladel's sire," said Thranduil, but he sounded more depressed than triumphant in his declaration. "I know my son; he would not leave everything behind if the only reason why he couldn't be with Caladel's sire was that he didn't love him. You would have asked him to marry you, he would have refused, and though I wouldn't have been too happy about the situation I would have welcomed them both with open arms. No, my grandson's _real_ sire did something terrible that scared him off, made him feel like leaving was his only option. I understand why he doesn't want to tell me who it is: he fears that I'll do something rash if I ever find out who it is. That is fine; I am nothing if not patient. If it's that important to Legolas I will accept you as Caladel's sire – for now. But I swear to you now, Eomer, that I will never forget that there is a Man out there who needs to pay for what he did to my child."

To be continued…


	21. Baggage that seems to still exist

_A/N: The title of this chapter comes from the song "You'll Think of Me" by Keith Urban. Here is the relevant verse and chorus:_

_I went out driving trying to clear my head  
I tried to sweep out all the ruins that my emotions left  
I guess I'm feeling just a little tired of this  
And all the baggage that seems to still exist  
It seems the only blessing I have left to my name  
Is not knowing what we could have been  
What we should have been  
So _

Take your records, take your freedom  
Take your memories I don't need'em  
Take your space and take your reasons  
But you'll think of me  
And take your cat and leave my sweater  
'Cause we have nothing left to weather  
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better  
But you'll think of me

Near the end of his stay in the former Mirkwood something happened that Legolas Greenleaf thought would never take place while his father still resided on this side of the Great Sea: he had a Man visit his bedchamber. Of course, it wasn't as if the elf prince had grown up dreaming about having one in there (although it had been the theme of a nightmare or two when he was a small elfling) or scheming about how to make that happen. Having any member of any race entering his private living quarters was pretty much forbidden ever since he was an elfling, first because he and his young friends were capable of making tremendous messes that the cleaning servants would just gape at and weep; and then later because it would be improper and the subject of annoying courtly gossip for months – years, even. The rule had never been strictly enforced; it just existed as a quiet understanding between father and son – until Aragorn (then known as Estel) came into their realm and lives.

Thranduil had always been observant to an unnecessary degree when it came to his son and his mind proved to be especially keen when it came to the development of the relationship between Legolas and the brash young Man. Legolas had never come out and announced that he and Aragorn were anything to each other but instructor-pupil and growing friends; his father never brought the subject up either, but he did make it a point to do _much_ more frequent checks in his son's bedchamber during the duration of the Man's stay. The supervision everywhere else had increased dramatically as well, making it nearly impossible for him and Aragorn to do more than sneak away for a few stolen kisses.

At the time Legolas had greatly resented this and hadn't been shy about telling his father this; but now he thanked Thranduil for his unrelenting supervision. For all the claims that he could control himself without someone looking over his shoulder, thank you very much, Legolas now had a four-and-almost-three-quarters years old proof that he wasn't very good at saying no to Aragorn. Who knew? Maybe if they had been allowed to be alone together he would have gotten pregnant decades sooner. Then again, if he had gotten pregnant before Aragorn had met Arwen things might have turned out much differently for all of them.

'_Nice,'_ he sneered at himself in disgust. _'You're fantasizing about how you could have trapped Aragorn if your pregnancy had happened before Arwen came into the picture. You can't go down this road or else you'll just become everything that Lord Elrond implied that you were!'_

Needless to say, no one had ever entered Legolas' bedchamber after the Man left, because Thranduil wouldn't allow it and because Legolas had never wanted anyone except Aragorn. Even now, after all of those years and having a son of his own, he still found it a little strange to be in that space with anyone else – even when that 'anyone' was Caladel. In light of all that it was beyond bizarre in Legolas' mind to see Eomer standing in his bedchamber's threshold, looking extremely uncomfortable and embarrassed as Caladel grasped his hand and continued to pull him in further.

"You have to help Papa, Ada," the boy announced in his most serious tone.

"Do I need to save him from the clutches of a certain elfling?" asked Legolas.

"No!" answered Caladel, exasperated.

Legolas raised an eyebrow as he gave Eomer a cursory once-over. The Man turned an unnatural shade of red and looked down, suddenly very interested in the floor. "Aside from that he seems fine enough to me, burning cheeks notwithstanding," noted the elf cheekily, unable to resist the opportunity to tease Eomer whenever he could. "If he doesn't need me to swoop in and save him I can't imagine how I can be of further assistance."

"He doesn't quite fit in here and I've finally figured out why," explained Caladel. He wasn't quite able to grasp the concept of different races yet and being a member of two different races did nothing to help clear up the confusion. As a result of that the elfling could see no more difference between Eomer and the wood elves than he could between Legolas and the Rohirric, or himself and either of those people – which usually amounted to nothing more than how much their ears were pointing. That was why it took him as long as it did to understand why his papa was having a hard time looking like he belonged in Eryn Lasgalan, and why his solution seemed to him so revolutionary. "Look at him! He doesn't have the braids."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas, managing the almost impossible task of swallowing his laughter.

Eomer gave him a pointed look. "Caladel feels that I may be more accepted by your people if I wear my hair in a similar manner," he said, wondering all the while about what had made the boy worry about something like that so late on in their visit. While they had never warmed to him completely, the wood elves had pretty much absorbed Eomer into their celebrations and daily life. It was certainly more than he'd expected after he'd first entered the Woodland Realm.

"Well, you do stand out in a crowd around here," nodded Legolas, falsely sage. "Come! I won't have a guest of mine ostracized because he lacks the good sense and skill to braid his hair. That's how you end up not enjoying your visit to this fine land! Sit down on the floor against the bed and I'll see to taking care of that right away."

"All right, if it makes you and Caladel happy," agreed Eomer with exaggerated reluctance. Once he'd settled down where Legolas had instructed the boy curled up next to him contentedly. "But it's really not necessary. I enjoy being around your people. They're…they're…"

"Listen to your papa, Caladel," smirked Legolas as he collected the necessary items to weave proper braids. "He struggles so not to insult them or us."

"No," protested Eomer. "I'm trying to say something good. I mean, I'm trying to say the positive thing that I have to say in a good way; unfortunately I think it's going to come out as an insult and I don't mean it as one."

Legolas walked over from across the room, plopped down on the bed behind Eomer, and grabbed a lock of the Man's blonde hair. "Just say it," he urged as he started combing out the snarls. "And remember that I'm in a position to inflict major pain if I feel that it's necessary."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Eomer wryly. "But the truth is that I didn't expect to feel at all comfortable around your people. The only other time I've been around elves was with the Rivendell elves in Minas Tirith after the War. They seemed so…well, lofty isn't really the correct word but you know what I mean. I just assumed that all elves were the same but I was wrong: the people of Eryn Lasgalan are no more like those of Rivendell than we Rohirrim are like the Gondorians. In fact, the Gondorians remind me of the Rivendell elves – all high and formal in their public lives, and refined and sedated in their celebrations – and your people are a lot like the Rohirrim: closer to the earth, capable of having a fun, loud celebration _and_ getting the job done, earning people's respect without making others feel…less than you. You don't control or oversee, you simply…I don't know. I'm sorry; I'm not making much sense.

Legolas took pity on him as he began to weave the first braid. "I understand you," he reassured Eomer. "We wood elves aren't so stuffy. We may not be as _civilized_ – if that's what you call it, and I don't – but that's part of what makes us who we are. And you like it."

"I do," smiled Eomer. "It's a lot like home."

"Ada, Papa, what's Minas Tirith like?" wondered Caladel suddenly. "You've told me about so many other places but you hardly ever talk about that."

"I don't like talking about it too much because I was very unhappy when I stayed there," said Legolas uncomfortably, as he always felt when the conversation veered too close to Aragorn. "But if you must know it is a very fancy city made up of seven layers of white stone. It looks like it's coming out of the mountainside."

"Does it have a lot of trees?" asked Caladel.

"In special gardens," Legolas told him. "They can't grow there freely because the ground is made up of solid stone too."

Caladel made a displeased face. He was not inclined to like any place where his ada was unhappy and this new information made it sound all the more horrible. "Poor trees, having to grow in captivity for people who won't bother to see one in any other way," he grumbled. "Imagine, not hearing the sound of wild trees whispering or feeling _real_ ground beneath your feet. Ugh! If that's what it means to be lofty, fancy, and civilized then I'm extra glad that I'm a wood elf and a Rohirrim."

"So am I," chimed in Legolas, though he wasn't sure if he was speaking about Caladel or himself.

"Ada!" cried Caladel when he looked at his papa to see what he thought about the matter. "Be careful! I think you're pulling too hard and hurting Papa. Papa, are you all right?"

He was better than all right; Eomer was in complete bliss. Legolas was practically running his fingers through his hair, making his scalp tingle wherever they brushed against it. It was so wonderful that his eyes had drifted shut on their own and Caladel had misinterpreted that as a sign of pain. "What?" asked Eomer a bit fuzzily. "No, I'm fine. Your ada isn't hurting me at all."

"You don't have to be polite," insisted Caladel protectively. "I know he can pull something awful when he thinks he needs to."

"Only when your hair is so full of knots and snarls that I think it might be easier just to shave it all off," Legolas playfully defended himself. "Not because I don't know how not to make it hurt."

Eomer's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Besides, my son," he said, "a little sting every now and then helps keep you grounded."

"_Ow! That hurts!"_

"_It only hurts because you're hair is so unruly. When was the last time that you bothered to brush it?"_

"_Stop trying to change the subject. You hurt me."_

"_And I suppose that you wish for me to find a way to soothe you. Do you have any suggestions?"_

"_There is but one cure for my pain: a kiss from the fair Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, as always."_

_Two pairs of lips met in a tender yet passionate kiss. "You do realize, Estel, that this isn't giving me any reason not to keep pulling your hair."_

"_I know, but it's worth it. Besides, a little sting every now and then is good for me."_

Legolas bit back a gasp. There one was again! As much as he liked being home the memories of Aragorn were so close to him there. He hated how he couldn't stop them from coming.

"Legolas?" asked Eomer, noticing a change in the elf's body language. "Is something wrong?"

Pulling his mind fully back into the present Legolas managed to plaster on a fake smile. "I'm fine."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It was late into the night when Legolas rolled onto his back with a sign, the latest move in his countless attempts to get comfortable enough to go to sleep. As much as he hated to he had to concede defeat – there was no way that he was going to find any rest that night with so many wonderful, awful, happy, and hurtful memories vying for the chance to be at the forefront of his mind. He had to get them out.

With that goal in mind Legolas rolled once more, this time until he was on his stomach and half-hanging off the edge of the bed. He didn't bother grabbing a candle to illuminate his search as he groped under the bed; what he was looking for was fairly large and something that he'd know by touch even if he was blindfolded in the pitch black. Fingers swept over the floor and a few other items, gathering dust on them as they went, until they stumbled across the box that contained his treasure: a bow and arrows. Legolas pulled the box out and set it on the bed so that he could open it without too much fuss; and almost cried out in relief when he grasped the weapon. Taking it out, he couldn't help running his hands over the arched wood, caressing it lovingly. Most of the other weapons were kept in a special closet but this one was meant to be for the prince's personal defense should the very worst happen and invaders take the palace. Legolas found another, more frequent use for it a long time ago: with the bow right there he didn't need to worry about breaking into the weapon's closet every time he had a lot on his mind and needed a way to vent it.

With the bow and arrows safely in his hands he climbed out of bed, walked softly across his bedchamber, crept out the door and through the hallway until he reached the door to his son's bedchamber, and opened it as quietly as he could. There he could see in the faint glow of a lantern kept lit so that the boy wouldn't wake up in the dark alone in what as still a relatively strange place that Caladel was sound asleep. Good; the last thing that Legolas wanted was to be nowhere to be found if his child needed him for any reason. Knowing what he did about Caladel's sleeping patterns and the like Legolas would have been willing to bet money that the boy would sleep until the morning.

As he closed the door again Legolas heard footsteps approaching from one side. "My prince?" whispered the guard who was patrolling the royal quarters that night. He eyed the bow in his hand with confusion. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes," Legolas told him. "I'm going out to the archery field and I might be done there for a long time. Would you listen especially close for Caladel? If he wakes up, please let him know that I'll be back and then direct him to either Eomer or my father."

"Of course," agreed the guard. "But may I ask why you're going out to the archery field so late?"

"I just – need to think," explained Legolas as best he could without giving away too much.

The guard bowed and went about his business, making it so Legolas could do the same. The elf swiftly made his way through the corridors to the main entrance, pushed the doors open, and with a nod to the guards on duty there walked down the torch-lit path to the archery field. There, as there had always been, was a row of eight large targets that had long ago been deemed to unwieldy to be stored away every night and dragged back into position every morning. Walking up to one of them, Legolas turned his back to it and marched away, counting his steps. When he was an acceptable distance away he turned again, readied his weapon, and fired. And again. And again. And again.

He knew that it was bitterly ironic that he had come to that place to rid himself of the memories that were haunting his sleep, memories of Aragorn. If there was any place in Eryn Lasgalan where the memory of the Man was most alive it was there. How many hours had they spent there that magical summer, laughing, shooting, instructing, learning…kissing, holding…falling in love for the first time (for both of them)? Legolas quickly shook his head and readied his bow once again, trying to keep from letting those recollections from overwhelming him but it was an uphill battle. In the dark of the night he could practically see the ghosts of the past all around him.

_O – Flashback – O_

_Early in the morning Legolas effortlessly loosed another arrow and hit the dead-center of the bulls-eye._ _With a sedately proud smirk he lowered his bow and indulged in the time it took for him to admire his latest handiwork. It had been a very good shot, even by his standards; if he was ever going to better it he would have to split that arrow with another one. What made it even more impressive was that he hadn't even been concentrating as much as he should have been. One ear, one part of his mind, was constantly focused on listening for any signs that his student that morning was approaching. It was a shame that he wasn't there yet. Legolas wished that Estel had somehow caught a glimpse of him doing what he did best._

_It was strange, silly, and completely unexpected that Legolas should wish to impress Lord Elrond's Mannish foster son so much; and the elf had a hard enough time admitting that that's what he wanted to do without acknowledging the reasons why. Estel had turned out to be nothing that he had expected when his father informed him that the elvish lord was requesting that they host the young one for the summer and instruct him in the art of archery. Knowing that this son was of the race of Men Legolas had naturally envisioned what always came to mind when he imagined what Men were like: a creature who was either unattractively bulky – perhaps with that odd fur on his face – or else awkwardly gangly; clumsy; loud; unthinkingly destructive to nature; and above all obnoxiously proud and arrogant._

_This image had not changed in the slightest when, a few months after Thranduil sent Elrond the letter agreeing to take Estel and informing him that his son would be the young Man's instructor, a message from the elvish lord came straight to Legolas. In it Elrond had told him not to worry about being too tough on Estel (permission that was unnecessary – Legolas had taught many people and had quickly realized that they tended not to learn anything if they were coddled). "Knowing my son as I do," the letter had said, "Estel could probably stand to be knocked down a peg or two, just to keep him from becoming too recklessly cocky."_

_Imagine his surprise, then, when on the morning of Estel's arrival Legolas had been informed that his new pupil was already down at the archery field. Not the behavior he'd anticipated from a person who's own father described him as "recklessly cocky"; but then again perhaps he was just trying to make a good first impression on the person he'd be spending a good amount of time with that summer. The prince had allowed himself a moment to be taken aback by the news and then had journeyed straight down to the field, the same archery field that he would find himself at decades later when the events of that day and the days following were haunting memories, to find the young Man practicing. Truth be told, he wasn't a bad shot, but Legolas had a witty and sarcastic sense of humor that made it impossible to resist tormenting him just a little. When Estel had turned around Legolas had known without a shadow of a doubt that the summer would be a lot more enjoyable than he had first thought it was going to be._

_Presently, the prince's cheeks burned a little when he whipped his head around to see if the noise he'd just heard was Estel and it turned out to be only a squirrel. It was absolutely ridiculous that he so looked forward to seeing the young Man at the beginning of every day! It wasn't as if he had a silly little _crush_ on Estel, was it? That was unthinkable! Sure, he had those clear, gorgeous eyes that were a color that Legolas had never seen before on another person; and a breathtaking smile that unashamedly showed every tooth and every emotion; and a remarkable fire in his spirit. Of course he was enjoyable to be around, being polite enough to be endearing, just cocky enough to be interesting, and charming on top of all that. But Estel was a _Man_. He even had that strange fur on his face – although that had turned out not to be as repulsive as Legolas had thought that it would be. Sometimes he even found himself wondering what it would feel like against the skin – of his hand; of his hand, of course. Not against the skin of anywhere else because Legolas didn't think about Estel that way._

_No, Legolas decided, it was curiosity and not attraction that motivated him to think the way he did about Estel. After all, he was like nothing the elf had ever seen before; who wouldn't be curious about seeing a member of a race he'd never seen up close before? That also explained why he came down to the field earlier and earlier each morning so that he wouldn't miss a moment of time that he had with the Man; it wasn't because of _Estel_, just that the elf wanted to…savor this unique cultural experience. As for the great pains he took to show off his skills, he did so because – because he wanted to be a good instructor and give the young Man something to aspire to be like. And all the extra time he'd been taking to dress especially sharp and to braid his hair with more care, well that was just Legolas making sure that he was projecting a positive image. He couldn't have a guest of Mirkwood thinking that the prince was sloppy; and he'd act that way whether said guest was a stupid dwarf or a gorgeous young Man whom he absolutely felt no attraction to. Nope, none at all._

_He was in the process of pulling another arrow out of his quiver when he heard the long-awaited footsteps coming up from behind him. Legolas paused but didn't turn around, not wanting Estel to see the goofily sappy smile that he couldn't stop from spreading across his face. "You really need to learn how to walk more softly," he called, not even moving his head slightly to the side to speak over his shoulder. "It's a good skill to have in this day and age, especially if you want to continue sneaking to your lessons late."_

"_I'm not late," protested Estel as he came around to stand by the elf's side. Legolas saw that his eyes were shining and the young Man, unlike himself, didn't bother to hide _his_ inappropriately happy smile. "You just got here early. You can't expect me to know exactly when to show up if you keep coming here before the scheduled time."_

"_I suppose you'd want me to knock on your door and gently shake you awake in that case," said Legolas mockingly. How was it that he wasn't able to stop his mouth from making such improper suggestions?_

_Estel blushed. "I wouldn't turn you away," he mumbled._

"_What?"_

"_Oh – nothing! Nothing!" burst out Estel quickly. "I was…was just wondering how you manage to be up so early? Elbereth, Legolas; don't you ever sleep?"_

"_Not excessively, unlike _some _mortals around here that shall remain nameless," replied Legolas, thankful that Estel had chosen not to repeat his potentially troublesome declaration and steer them back into the familiar territory of verbal sparring._

"_I wouldn't be able to be as good as I am without getting a good night's sleep," boasted Estel._

"_If sleep is what you credit your skills to you might want to find another way to improve," teased Legolas as he notched his bow and aimed. There was no way that he wasn't going to fully concentrate on _this _shot, as it would be most embarrassing if he missed it. "Just think, if I spent as much time in bed as you do I would have never been able to learn how to do _this_."_

_The young Man's mouth fell open when Legolas fired his shot and successfully spit the arrow that he'd shot dead-center into the bulls-eye moments before. "That's…that's not bad," he croaked._

_Legolas turned to cock an eyebrow at him. "Not bad?" he repeated with a hint of joking incredulousness in his tone. "Is that all you have to say?"_

_Estel grinned. "Well, good form and good aim and all that," he said, mockingly condescending._

"_Thank you so much, oh wise instructor," said Legolas dryly. "I only aspire to hear those flattering words of praise coming from you."_

"_Hey, I was giving you a compliment," protested Estel, a laugh breaking through his disinterested façade. "But I'm afraid that I can't find it in me to fawn over such a shot. What did you do, hit the center of center? Please. I mean, that's something that I could do without thinking any day of the week if I wanted to."_

"_Oh really?" asked Legolas sardonically. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was trying to show off. Still, he couldn't let Estel get away with mocking his wonderful shot the way that he did. With a little 'tut' of his tongue he shoved the bow into one of the Man's hands and placed an arrow in the other. "Well, it just happens that such a shot has been set up for you right now! How fortunate for me; I'm most interested in seeing the technique you're going to use to split the arrow like I did."_

"_Fine," said Estel. The Man was never one to back down from a direct challenge, even if the slight tremor in his voice belied his confidence. He readied the arrow on the bow but did not aim; instead pointing everywhere except to the bulls-eye while he tugged on the string nervously. "This is going to be very easy."_

_Legolas couldn't help smirking. "Then let's see it," he practically dared._

"_You will," Estel told him, pulling on the string a little harder as he obviously searched his mind for some way – any way – to stall. "I just think that first you should understand a little more about my skills and talent. I've been practicing my archery since I was a little child, you know. I don't know why Ada thought that I needed to come here to learn – he was the one who gave me my first bow! Granted it was a toy, but the fact still remains that I used it to shoot all the time." He chuckled a little hysterically. "I used to get into so much trouble with that thing. One time – _OW_!"_

"_Estel!" Legolas cried out in alarm. In the young Man's desperate attempts to buy more time he'd actually accidentally loosed the arrow – at his _foot_. Dropping to his knees to examine the damage the elf cursed himself for not putting a stop to Estel's careless antics sooner. Was it really so important to him to tease…flirt that he couldn't make sure that his charge came through it intact? "Estel, dear Elbereth. How bad is it? Can you wiggle your toes?"_

_Estel was breathing very loudly through his teeth. "I'm all right," he insisted, though he was groaning a little too much for that to be convincing._

_At first glance, though, his assertions seemed true enough; thanks to the heavy boot that he was wearing the arrow hadn't completely penetrated Estel's foot. Still, it had done at least some damage to the very top of it. "Be that as it may we really should get you to a healer," declared Legolas anxiously._

_Estel shook his head stubbornly. "I'm _fine_," he stressed._

"_Estel, there's an arrow sticking out of your foot," Legolas felt compelled to point out exasperatedly, even though strictly speaking it was more sticking out of his boot and poking his foot. "You really do need to do something about it."_

"_I think," Estel stopped as if reconsidering what he was about to say and then reflexively licked his lips. "I think that the only thing I'll need is one kiss from the fair prince of Mirkwood."_

_Legolas' head snapped up. _Kiss_ Estel? He was somewhat surprised to find that his lips were already tingling in anticipation. But it was to be expected that he was eager to do this; after all, it sounded as if the young Man wouldn't budge until he got one innocent little kiss. Yes, Legolas would simply be doing what any responsible instructor would do. "If I give you one," he said slowly, rising to his feet, "will you agree to go to a healer?"_

"_I won't need one, but yes," nodded Estel._

_Letting out an unconscious sigh Legolas leaned in and planted a sweet, chaste kiss on the Man's mouth. As he pulled back before the emotions that he'd been trying so hard to deny got the better of him, he couldn't help thinking that Estel's stubbly fur had felt rather nice against his cheeks – it was something…new, and interesting._

"_My foot still hurts," declared Estel quietly._

"_We can't have that," whispered Legolas._

_This time it was Estel who leaned in and kissed first, holding their lips together for a lot longer. When their mouths open instinctively to get some air their tongues seemed to come together of their own volition and tentatively brushed one another. Legolas gasped and pulled away. "I would," the elf breathed. "I would be remiss in my duties if I…didn't see this healing technique through to the end."_

_Estel's grin spread from ear to ear. "And I shall be your willing patient," he proclaimed. The kisses that followed were increasingly passionate and the young Man didn't end up going to a healer for another hour._

_O – End Flashback – O_

"Legolas?" Legolas turned around to watch Eomer approach him, wrapped in a large blanket with a concerned look on his face.

"What are you doing out here?" Legolas asked him.

"The guard," explained Eomer, gesturing to the path that led back to the palace. "He was concerned about you, so he woke me and told me that you'd left and where he thought that you were going. It's late; what are you doing out here at this hour?"

"I'm thinking," replied Legolas with a sigh, putting down his bow. "Eomer, has there ever been one moment that's completely changed your life? Who you were, how you felt, where your life was heading, everything?"

Eomer's mind immediately went to the moment that he saw an unconscious Legolas on Elfhelm's horse. _Everything_ was different after that. Still, he supposed that it would have been if he hadn't already cared for Legolas; so maybe the life-changing moment was at Aragorn's wedding when he and Legolas had their first real conversation. But then _that_ wouldn't have changed much if he'd never seen Legolas again. "I would say more _moments_ than moment," he finally answered. "Alone they wouldn't have altered much about me; yet together they made me who I am today."

Legolas could understand that; after all, he supposed that kissing Aragorn for the first time that summer wouldn't have been so life-altering if he'd never seen the Man again, and certainly if he hadn't renewed his romance with him decades later. "Do you think that one moment leads to another or do they exist independently while together influencing your life?" he wondered.

"I think that it's too late to have such a deep philosophical conversation," replied Eomer kindly. He took the blanket from around him and wrapped it around Legolas' body. "Come inside, get some sleep, and in the morning we can get into the this and the that of life-changing moments if you wish."

"I can't take your blanket," protested Legolas.

"It's not that cold," Eomer told him. "I really don't need it; I just grabbed it because I thought it would be inappropriate to traipse about Eryn Lasgalan in nothing but my sleep leggings."

"But you're still in nothing but your sleep leggings," pointed out Legolas, nodding to the Man's bare chest. "Besides, if you don't need it then what makes you think that _I _do?"

"It's to stave off deep ponderings and questions that have no real answers," replied Eomer, pretending to fuss with the blanket, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles and such. "Sometimes it helps to have something wrapped around you, giving you a place to burrow down into away from the world."

A warm feeling that Legolas was too emotionally drained to explore touched the elf's heart. "Thank you, Eomer," he said quietly. He fell in step beside the Man, away from the field where the ghosts of the past kissed away their lives as they knew them.

To be continued…


	22. Changes in the wind

A few weeks after he, Caladel, and Eomer had returned to Edoras from Eryn Lasgalan (Elbereth, his cheeks still burned when he thought of his former home being given that new moniker! Did his father really have to be so, well, _devoted_ to his son?) Legolas Greenleaf had no choice but to draw a rather sorry conclusion about his life: he was bored for a great deal of the time. Oh, he still wanted to stay in Meduseld. He'd even grown quite fond of the kingdom of Rohan and its people; strange, considering that he and his son ended up there by happenstance, stayed because they really didn't have any other place to go, and ended up feeling right at home.

The trip to his childhood home had served two purposes: to reassure and to say goodbye. Legolas knew that somewhere in the back of Thranduil's mind there had been doubt still lurking about the well-being of his family; had he and Caladel not come to the forest his father would have always wondered if Legolas and the boy were truly all right, if they weren't being forced to stay where they didn't want to by external sources or because of Legolas' sense of propriety and sacrifice. The fact that Eomer had come as well, sans guards or weapons other than the customary sword, had further reassured Thranduil that his son and grandchild were not being prevented from coming and going at will. Why, the elven king had even warmed a little to the Man, though Legolas suspected that his father wasn't really convinced that Eomer was truly Caladel's sire. But he hadn't pressed the matter either and that was all that the prince could hope for.

Legolas hadn't really been bored when he'd stayed in Eryn Lasgalan, as he'd had many people to catch up with, an entire world to show to Caladel before it faded forever, his father to visit with, Eomer to keep an eye on lest he feel uncomfortable or unknowingly put his foot in his mouth, and his own soul to cleanse; but his current state had nothing to do with homesickness or the like. The fact was that during his visit the elf realized that the Woodland Realm wasn't _really _his home anymore. The Legolas that left there to deliver a message and ended up on a noble but seemingly doomed quest was not the same one that returned about six years later with a child and a Man. Oh, it held a lot of happy memories but the world of the elves was fading away and one of the main reason why Legolas had rejected the idea of taking the ships when he found out that he was pregnant was still there: he could not shake the feeling that Caladel's fate as well as his own was now tied to the world of Men. There would be nothing for either of them in Valinor.

No, the boredom that he felt wasn't indicative of a long-term, festering mood or longing. He did not desire to return to his father's realm or Fangorn, nor did he feel the pangs of sea longing. What it all boiled down to was one simple, yet to him unbelievable, fact: there were a lot of hours in the day and Legolas didn't have enough to do to fill them all.

He never thought that something like this would happen to him. As a child the world fascinated him and he could occupy himself for hours studying the outside and the soul of one tree. As he got older there was weapons training, instructing others in archery, going on the occasional guard duty, and fulfilling his duties as a prince. During the Quest he'd been too busy in mind and body to get bored. Not even in Fangorn Forest – _especially _not in Fangorn Forest – was he ever bored. The woods there were full of endlessly interesting things and, more importantly, he had Caladel to think about.

Caring for Caladel back then had consumed Legolas to the point there it was sometimes difficult to tell where he ended and the boy began. He'd obsessed constantly about every little thing: whether his son was getting enough to eat, enough to drink, if his Mannish side would complicate his health in any way. He'd worry that Caladel wasn't being loved enough, that having only his father and some Ents around wouldn't be enough for the elfling emotionally. Was Caladel learning enough about the outside world so that he understood that there was something beyond Fangorn's boundaries; was he learning too much so that he would become restless to join into a world where his father was certain there wasn't a place for either one of them? What would happen…what would happen if someone came along and snatched the boy away?

Oh yes; the level of fear that Legolas had felt on a daily basis but only know was beginning to acknowledge had filled up his day and then some. How could anyone be bored when they had to be always alert, stiffening at every unexplained noise, watching out for intruders whenever he and Caladel went down to the river Isen to collect drinking water or bathe, and cringing when the boy made the slightest noise during the few times that there were people on the river bank. Legolas had rarely let Caladel out of his sight. His son had been Legolas' only reason for existing and the elf prince had constantly feared that the specters of all that he didn't want to face would swoop in one day and take his life, his purpose, his _child_.

Things had been gradually changing since he and Caladel had come to live in Edoras. It started with little things, like staying behind in his bedchamber while the elfling went off with Eomer to sneak some food from the kitchens. Those few minutes of separation had stretched into an hour when Caladel had claimed that having his ada present was distracting him and making his instructor, Alfmund, nervous. Legolas hadn't been able to deny his son's request and, besides, Alfmund had been the one who bore Caladel out of Fangorn – the young Man was very protective of him too and wouldn't let anything bad happen. Next came the tutoring sessions, taking him away for a few more hours. Now that the boy had all of his lessons and friends that he'd met at those he could be somewhere else anywhere from a few hours to all day.

Now that all of this was happening Legolas found that he wasn't too concerned about anyone taking Caladel when he wasn't looking. He trusted those whom he placed the care of his son with and all of the guards knew who he was in case anyone tried to smuggle him out of the city. Most of all, the elf was reassured by Eomer's promise that he wouldn't let anyone steal his son from him. The fears that had once robbed the elf of many a night's sleep were now something that he only thought of when someone overtly reminded him of them. That resulted in a freeing up of a lot of his time.

Caladel, it seemed, was busy forging who he was when he was away from his father and Legolas was left without the one person that had previously defined everything that he was; but it wasn't as if he'd been completely abandoned. He, Caladel, and Eomer still ate almost every meal together. In fact, the three of them were growing closer every day. He and his son, as neither wanted to lose their close bond made it a point to spend time alone together each day too. Legolas had also found that he was also spending a surprising amount of time alone with Eomer as well, usually a few minutes here and there during the day or when they had late night talks after Caladel had gone to sleep. It was just that when his son and the Man weren't with him they were off doing other things. Caladel had his studies and his friends; Eomer had his kingly duties; and Legolas didn't really have another role outside of his bonds with them that defined him.

It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy having the time to do his own thing, but at the moment the activities that consisted of "his own thing" were very limited. At first Legolas had spent his free time catching up on about five years of inadequate and interrupted sleep. Finally, when he'd gotten to the point where if he rested anymore he would become an inanimate object he'd needed something else to do. At that point he'd taken to walking the grounds of the city (the elf never went outside the gates, wanting to be close at hand in case Caladel needed anything) and reading everything that he could get his hands on. Unfortunately the land of Edoras wasn't very interesting and the lack of trees made him miss being in the woods; and the city only had a finite number of scrolls available for public reading, and even less that were in the Common Tongue. Once Legolas had reread everything to the point that he got a headache at the sight of a familiar scroll he knew that the time had come to be more proactive.

Trying to teach himself Rohirric had kept Legolas occupied until he, Eomer, and Caladel had left for Eryn Lasgalan; but it was difficult to learn a new language if one didn't have a proper instructor or even a set of written directions to help along the way and he'd ended up making the decision to abandon that pursuit by the time they'd returned from his father's realm. Thankfully it was at that point that Eomer had made a rather thoughtful suggestion: since the elf had great skills in archery and obviously enjoyed doing it, why not create a place for him to do it in? Legolas had gratefully accepted his offer and in no time he had his own makeshift archery field set up for him on Meduseld's private grounds. However, even _that_ grew wearisome – while Legolas loved having the place and freedom to shoot once again, hour…after hour…after hour…day…after day…after day…after day of practicing without any real purpose was enough to drive the most stable person insane.

The breaking point had finally come when Legolas – without Caladel and Eomer, not tired, unable to read anything old or new, not inclined to make the effort to go outside to walk the grounds, and refusing to shoot anymore for fear that he'd get permanently sick of it – found himself wandering aimlessly through the corridors of Meduseld simply because he lacked anything better to do. "This is nonsense," he declared aloud. His voice seemed to echo around him and he realized that he'd been reduced to not only doing nothing but also to talking to himself. Legolas knew then that he was going to lose his mind if he didn't do something to alleviate his boredom and he resolved to see to just that immediately.

Unfortunately he couldn't think of any other away to go about finding something useful to do except to seek out Eomer's help, and the Man was currently in his office taking care of official business. That wasn't as much of an obstacle for Legolas, however, as it had been in the past. Not too long ago it would have been unthinkable to Legolas to see Eomer when he was working but something – the elf wasn't sure what – had changed between them in Eryn Lasgalan. Maybe it was his father's acceptance of Eomer; perhaps it was how seeing his people made most of his guilt about abandoning them disappear; maybe it was just the fact that they were able to spend more time together and learn more about each other; but now the mentality that Legolas had that separated the Eomer that was his friend from the Eomer that was the king was pretty much gone. He only hesitated for a moment before making his way to the office of the king and politely rapping on the door.

"Come in!" called out Eomer's eager voice from the other side.

Legolas swung the door open carefully and stood in the entryway. The inviting smile on the Man's face that he used to greet every visitor broadened and became more genuine when he saw who was there. "Legolas!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet without a thought and banging his knees on the edge of his desk.

"Are you all right?" asked Legolas, swallowing his laughter for the most part.

"I'm fine," Eomer tried to say casually, as if he'd had every intention of bruising himself. He waved his hand in a gesture for Legolas to come in and the elf complied, closing the door behind him as he entered. "It's just that this is a pleasant surprise! What brings you here?"

"This is a little difficult, but I – I need to talk to you," said Legolas, subdued.

The smile immediately faded from Eomer's face, replaced with stress lines and a worried frown. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Has something happened to Caladel?"

"No, no, it's nothing nearly as serious as that," Legolas reassured him, though he was oddly pleased at the Man's distressed reaction and where his mind had instantly gone. There was a time when that announcement would have made Eomer assume that the elf was planning on leaving and never coming back; he was happy now that the Man apparently trusted him enough to know that he wouldn't make such a decision so suddenly. It also gave him a great deal of comfort to be reminded of how much Eomer truly loved Caladel.

"Good," breathed Eomer as he visibly relaxed. He shakily gestured to a chair sitting opposite of the desk. "Please sit down if you wish."

The Man sucked in a deep cleansing breath as Legolas did just that. "It's got nothing to do with this afternoon, right?" he continued. "I hope not! I've been looking forward to scouting locations with you and Caladel all day."

That afternoon Legolas, Eomer, and Caladel were going to ride around the land immediately outside of the city in search of the perfect place to grow a grove of trees. At their departure Thranduil had gifted his son and grandson with seeds from the trees of the Woodland Realm so that they could always have a small piece of it with them while they lived in the world of Men. Caladel had been of a mind to plant them right away but Legolas had talked him out of it – not all of the soil right outside of the city was contusive to growing trees, so it would take some time and care to find the proper place; and they couldn't count on a seed getting enough nourishment during the harsh winter to survive long enough to become a sapling. The plan now was to allow the seeds to grow into saplings in special buckets indoors (over the elfling's objections that trees shouldn't be grown in captivity) and then planted outside once spring came. Eomer was being kind enough to let them take over a good-sized slot of land in his realm so that they could carry out this endeavor.

"I," began Legolas awkwardly, not knowing how to ask for help with his boredom without coming across as ungrateful. He didn't like the idea of Eomer thinking that he'd found fault in Meduseld, Edoras, Rohan, or the people there. He laced his fingers together and set his hands down on the desk to keep from fidgeting nervously. "I'm looking forward to that as well. So is Caladel; I think he'll feel better about the whole keeping the seeds inside once he knows for sure that there's going to be a place where he can plant them later. Besides, he'll take any excuse to ride his horse outside of the practice arena."

"I know – did you see how excited he was at breakfast this morning?" chuckled Eomer.

"I can't say that I blame him," replied Legolas. "It's been a while since Arod's been given a good ride."

"Thoughts about leaving all of this behind and riding off with you have been motivating me to read though this infernal trade agreement with Dol Amroth all morning," confided Eomer without thinking. It didn't occur to him until a second later who romantic he'd made it sound. Valar, why didn't he just suggest that they leave their son at home and take along a blanket and some wine instead? He hastily cleared his throat. "You know how it is – I don't like staying cooped up for too long! A Man of Rohan needs to take a good long ride quite frequently."

Legolas was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the potentially suggestive nature of that last comment or register the mortified grimace on Eomer's face. "Will you be ready to go once you've approved of the agreement?" he asked.

"No," said Eomer, quickly thanking the fates that the elf hadn't called him on anything. "I have a few other matters to sort through after I'm done with that; but they have to do with the Yule celebration and will go by _much_ faster. My uncle used to tell me to do the dull tasks first and save the fun ones for last so that I would have something to look forward to instead of something I dreaded looming."

"That sounds like good advice to me," said Legolas kindly, looking at the small stack of papers on the desk curiously. "May I ask what Yule is?"

Eomer looked at his with eyebrows raised in surprise. "Do you mean to tell me that your people don't celebrate Yule?" he wondered. Legolas nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, I suppose that it's silly to assume that just because _we_ celebrate something that everyone else must too. It's a shame, though; I feel sorry for you, you poor deprived princeling."

"You've been writing with Gimli, haven't you?" demanded Legolas with a quirk of his lips, immediately warming to the Man's teasing tone. "I suggest that you ask him what I did the first time he called me that. But before you do so, tell me about Yule."

"It's a wonderful holiday," Eomer told him. "Every year we celebrate the first day of winter on the shortest day and longest night of the year" –

"Oh, you're talking about _Solstice_," laughed Legolas in recognition. "Really Eomer, if you're going to celebrate something at least call it by its proper name! I'll have you know that we elves of the Woodland Realm have always had festivities that are quite impressive on that occasion for years."

The Man grinned at the playfully competitive edge in Legolas' statement. "Is that so?" he questioned challengingly. "Let's see how they compare, then. Do you give out presents?"

"Piles of them," replied Legolas, falsely smug. "You've met my father, Eomer – do you really think he'd let the chance to spoil the people he loves rotten pass him by? Don't feel the need to answer that; tell me a bit about the celebration itself. Is it full of food, merry-making, and drinks that will make your eyes blurry?

"Well, none of the drinks are of the same caliber as all of the elvish wines, but yes," returned Eomer, pretending to be overly proud. "And that merriment you mentioned always includes people singing Yule songs off key and at the top of their lungs. Are there any Solstice songs, Legolas?"

"Several," declared Legolas. He wracked his mind for something that would stump Eomer; and grinned evilly when the perfect thing came to him. "We also decorate all of the trees outside. Have you ever decorated a tree for Yule, Eomer?"

"I can't say that I've decorated a tree _outside_, as there are none around to do so," admitted Eomer, acting defeated for a moment. Then he straightened his back and smirked. "But it's tradition to ride out to more wooded areas, cut down one, and bring it home to decorate and keep inside, so technically the answer to your question is 'yes'." Eager to win one of their verbal wars, he quickly sifted mentally through everything that was associated with Yule to find something on the obscure side. "Now tell me: what mistletoe traditions do you have?"

Damn! Eomer got him. "What does mistletoe have to do with a holiday celebration?" frowned Legolas.

"I think you'll just have to wait and find out for yourself," teased Eomer.

"I am looking forward to it," said Legolas honestly now that their sparring had ended. "This will be Caladel's first Solstice, or Yule – would you mind if we called it both around him?"

"Not at all," said Eomer ponderously. "But I don't understand; Caladel will be five in a few months – how can this be his _first_ Yule/Solstice?"

Legolas looked a little embarrassed. "I – I didn't bother to celebrate in Fangorn," he confessed. "I was aware of what day it was – of what every day was, in fact – but there was never any motivation to celebrate and we didn't really have anything that we could have needed to have a proper one anyway. I just wanted his first one to be perfect."

"It will be," vowed Eomer. He looked down at his pile of papers and heaved a great sigh. "After I plan it all out, that is; which will be _after_ I get through this trade agreement. By the Valar, this thing isn't that long or complicated – why is it giving me such a hard time?"

"May I take a look at it?" asked Legolas inquisitively. Eomer gave him an odd look but handed the document over. The two of them said in silence for several moments while Legolas scanned through the writing with his sharp eyes and a furrowed brow. "Well, it seems pretty straightforward. Plain in speech without most of that political jargon."

"What?" asked Eomer, surprised and perplexed.

"Prince Imrahil is a fair Man," continued Legolas. "Not to say that you shouldn't take your time in going over everything, but I'd say offhand that he isn't consciously trying to trick or cheat you in any way. However, if you'll take a little unsolicited advice I would suggest that you rewrite the twenty-third clause to be more specific about what you mean about payments and restitutions. It could be interpreted to make Rohan give up a notably substantial amount of its crops by any less-honest ruler that comes after him." He settled the parchment back down on the desk and looked back at Eomer. "What?"

The Man was staring at him as if he'd just been reciting beautiful poetry in the Dark Tongue. "You," he stammered. "You're a _politician_?"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," noted Legolas with some amusement. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, Eomer, but you're a politician too. That's what every king must be."

"Yes, but I spent most of my time before I was king with the soldiers, not behind a desk," protested Eomer. "I fumble through this part of the job! It seems to come so easily to you."

"What can I say? My father never trusted an official document that was sent to or placed in front of him and he taught me to feel the same way. The two of us used to go through every one of them for hours, envisioning every possible scenario and coming up with ways to close loopholes." Legolas couldn't help laughing at the scandalized expression on Eomer's face. "It's not a terrible thing to be a good politician! In fact, I would say that it's rather like being a good soldier: when you're good at it you provide a tremendous service to your people and when you're bad at it you might do something to bring about their destruction. You just have to use your powers for good instead of evil."

"I never thought of it that way before," admitted Eomer warmly. "But anyway, I'm sure that you didn't come here to listen to me complain about my work and then do it for me. Obviously there's something on your mind; what is it?"

Legolas fingered the edges of the parchment he'd just put down and exhaled loudly through his nose. "I…I suppose I'm bored," he said. He rushed ahead when Eomer looked at him, slightly hurt. "I don't mean that I'm unhappy with my life in Rohan! It's just that for so long my life revolved solely around Caladel; then it became all about our family. But I've been feeling rather set adrift when you and our son aren't around to give me purpose; and I've come to realize that I need something that's _mine_ to do. I'm not sure how to go about finding what that is, though. And if you think I'm going to stay in Meduseld keeping up your home," he added with a small smile, "you're sadly mistaken."

"The thought never crossed my mind. How about I just send all of these types of agreements to you to look over?" suggested Eomer brightly, only half-joking.

"I actually wouldn't mind that," Legolas told him plainly, "but it would be too inappropriate. I'm not one of your political councilors, nor am I even a citizen of Rohan. The people from within the realm would rightly question my motivations and my influence over you and people from outside would think you to be an ineffective ruler if they found out."

"You can't blame me for trying," smiled Eomer. He pressed his hands together and the tips of his fingers against his pursed lips as he thought. "I think I might have something – you instructed people in archery when you lived in Eryn Lasgalan, correct?"

"For centuries," replied Legolas. "It was Ada's way of keeping me away from the more dangerous endeavors but I did enjoy it."

"As of right now the training for the guards and soldiers involves lumping together all of the fighting techniques that have nothing to do with sword fighting," explained Eomer. "I've always felt that such a system diminishes the importance of our knife fighters, lancers, archers, and the like; not to mention how it wastes talent by not giving people who are exceptionally proficient in those areas a proper place to expand on their skills. Elfhelm, Gamling, and I have been discussing different ways in which we could change this; however, as we haven't been focusing on these other techniques in the past, we've been having problems with finding people who truly excel in those areas who would also be good teachers. It would be a tremendous help to us – and a great honor – if a certain elf who is reputedly the best archer in Middle-earth would volunteer. Would you be interested in instructing some of our more promising Men in archery?"

Something to do that was his; a chance to be outdoors doing something that he loved; even spending time with people that weren't Caladel and Eomer, thus giving him more opportunities to make friends of his own – Legolas couldn't imagine anything better than that. "I hereby volunteer to be Rohan's new archery instructor," he declared eagerly. "When can I start?"

"We can work out the details with Gamling and Elfhelm tomorrow," promised Eomer as he resolutely picked up the trade agreement once more. "I'd do it sooner but I have clause twenty-three to revise and the perfect Yule/Solstice to plan before Caladel's lessons are over with for the day. He's been so looking forward to our ride that I'd hate to disappoint him by being late!"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Legolas, Caladel, and Eomer's errand that afternoon was straightforward enough – find a suitable patch of land to plant a grove of trees in – but it was proving to be very complicated. First there was the issue of making sure that wherever it ended up being was close to the city – after all, it would be pointless to grow something that was supposed to be meaningful and enjoyable to the two elves if getting to it on a regular basis proved to be impossible. Then the land itself had to be rich; the area immediately surrounding Edoras wasn't used for farming and with good reason: the ground in most places was too hard and/or full of stones for that sort of endeavor. Since Caladel had his heart set on having the trees grow unrestrained they needed to find a patch of land that would allow for later growth. Finding the right place with all of that to consider was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack.

"I think that we should look south of the city," Legolas suggested after awhile of fruitless searching.

"No!" complained Caladel with a pout. His horse neighed sympathetically and the boy patted him fondly. "I really want to have it be at the north! That way Grandfather could ride in them or by them when he goes into and comes out of the city at the start and end of his visits. He could see the trees and say 'Oh, here is the land of my son and grandson! How I love them - and Eomer too!'."

Legolas managed not to laugh at his son's uncanny imitation of Thranduil saying that unlikely little addition. "Your grandfather won't forget where we are, believe me," he stressed. "But he's not going to be seeing _any_ trees if we can't find a place to put them. The land to the south is less rocky; I really think we'll have better luck there than here." Caladel seemed to be wavering so he went in for the clincher. "And when your grandfather does visit we can plan a lot of special rides out to visit the trees."

"All right," Caladel agreed, albeit reluctantly. He couldn't turn down the chance to go on a horse ride outside of the city walls.

With his blessing the trio rode south. When they got to the general area of where they wanted to be they slowed down their place. Eomer then took advantage of the fact that Caladel didn't need to ride in between them when they were going that speed to ride up beside Legolas. "Your father's not coming to visit, is he?" he asked anxiously. "I mean, he's welcome of course, but you'd tell me he's coming, right?"

"You didn't tell me the last time he came," Legolas pointed out sternly. "Eomer gulped nervously, making the elf's hard expression break. "I was just teasing you! You must always assume that he's coming to visit at some point, but I'd let you know as soon as I found out he was on his way. Why so anxious? He didn't threaten you, did he?"

"No," said Eomer quickly. He was certain that Thranduil would keep the information that the Man was in love with Legolas a secret until the ending of the world, and all of the elf king's vengeance seemed to be reserved for Caladel's blood sire. Still…. "He's very – intimidating; not rude, just…let's just say that you're always aware that you don't want to get on his bad side."

"You don't have to tell me that," said Legolas knowingly. "Ada" –

"Ada! Papa!" Caladel called out over to them all of the sudden. When his parents had started chattering the elfling had dismounted his horse to explore the land more closely. What he found there excited him to no end. "We're _supposed_ to be looking for good tree-land, you know! I think I found it!"

Eomer and Legolas immediately dismounted and hurried over to where Caladel was kneeling down. As the elf settled down beside their son and the Man beside him, Legolas narrowed his eyes and examined the ground, both externally and mentally. "It's fertile," he reported several seconds later. "Good earth, with fewer stones than the north side. It will still take some work to clear them all out but it's a manageable task. If enough of the land around here is like this then I believe you've found the site of our future tree grove."

"Yay!" cheered Caladel, leaping to his feet and jumping around in a circle while clapping his hands. "We're going to have a tree grove! We're going to have a tree grove! I'm going to get to talk to trees again; Ada's going to sing to them and make them grow strong; and maybe they won't even whisper those things about Papa!"

"What things?" demanded Eomer, shuddering a bit as he remembered the threatening sounds that the trees of Eryn Lasgalan were making at him.

"That's not important," Legolas told him blithely. "I'm sure that these trees will like you."

Quite unexpectedly Caladel launched himself at his ada. Legolas managed to catch him; being an elf he also maintained his balance but as the boy's goal seemed to be to knock him over the elf let himself fall backwards. A beat later Eomer found himself sprawled out on the ground with Legolas on top of him and Caladel on top of _him_. The elfling began to laugh at the ridiculous state that his fathers were in and that sound proved to be infectious. Soon enough Legolas and Eomer were laughing so hard that it took awhile for them to calm down enough to disentangle themselves from each other.

It was only late at night when he was almost asleep that Legolas realized that, for the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he hadn't thought about Aragorn once all day.

To be continued…


	23. Tis the season

_A/N: Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'll be at my parents' house (with their horrible, horrible internet connection that is not condusive to uploading chapters) I've decided to update a day early. Next week I'll be back on schedule, but in the meantime Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it._

In another time, in another _life_, Winter Solstice had been Aragorn's favorite holiday. As a child he'd found the celebration to be absolutely wonderful and exciting. It had been the one night of the year that he'd been allowed to stay up until he literally fell asleep during the festivities. And those festivities had not been easy to nod off during either – there had always been a large feast in the House of Elrond on that night, after which all the members of the household would come together in one of the gathering chambers to listen to poetry and sing songs. There would always be a fireplace with a roaring fire in one of the prominent walls too, and it would be beside that where Elrond would give his sons their presents every year. Back when Aragorn was still Estel and no one looked to him to reunite the world of Men or cared who he would marry there had been no better time of the year than Winter Solstice.

Like so many other aspects of his life the joy of Winter Solstice had faded away almost as soon as the Man learned that his true name was Aragorn and that there was a great deal of heritage and responsibility that came along with being who he was. After that he'd rarely gotten the chance to celebrate the holiday during his years of traveling, as a ranger had little time or reason to celebrate anything. The ensuing decades had turned that once-happy day into one of the most melancholy times of his years.

During the more merciful years Solstice had just slipped by unnoticed. But those were few and far between, and most of the time he'd found himself in some unfamiliar settlement for the holiday. It had hurt when most of the people either ignored or openly scorned him, but that was nothing compared to how it felt to watch everyone else enjoying the festivities and knowing that there was no celebration that he belonged at anymore. Oh, once or twice he'd managed to get back to Rivendell in time but being there had only depressed him further; for he hadn't been little Estel Elrondion anymore but Aragorn son of Arathorn, a ranger and a _Man_. No one had been rude or anything but there had been no way that anyone could have missed the shift in the elves' attitudes, how they'd started to look at him with more expectations and fumbled around for something to talk with him about. As a result what had once been his favorite holiday became the day that Aragorn had felt his loneliness most keenly.

Now once again things had changed; he still wasn't Estel Elrondion but he wasn't the homeless, wandering ranger Aragorn anymore either. He was King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor and in this new role he couldn't try to ignore the holiday anymore. It was now not only acceptable but it was also expected of him to decorate the whole citadel for the season, to order the grandest holiday feast that he could imagine, to host a celebration full of poetry, music, and anything else he desired. Aragorn had surrounded himself with all the trappings of the season this year, as he did every other year since he became the king, but like in all those other years he still felt like the loneliest person in the world.

The irony was that he certainly wasn't alone: he had a wife, a four-year-old son, a three-year-old daughter, a seven-month-old baby girl, and even Elladan and Elrohir. The twins had arrived for Silmariën's birthday celebration in the early days of the cold season and were staying through at least Eldarion's birthday in the summer. Aragorn had spent almost every moment of his waking hours around one, several, or all of the members of his family, but all that turned out to be was serve as a reminder that a person could be alone even when he was in a room full of people.

He wasn't lonely around his children, of course. Aragorn thanked the Valar for the three of them more than ever, for the wonder of the season had been temporarily restored whenever he was around them. Oh, how happy Eldarion and Silmariën looked when they saw all the decorations, and how adorable it was when baby Miriel stared at the fire crackling in the fireplace with unfettered fascination. It was so gratifying to be the father now and have his beloved children gathered around _his _grand fireplace to open presents. Eldarion had immediately started playing with his menagerie of new carved animals (although he mainly had them trying to eat his little sisters). Silmariën had gushed over and over again about how wonderful her new baby doll was. Baby Miriel apparently couldn't be bothered to look away from the crackling and light of the fire for too long but he could tell that she loved her new stuffed rabbit by the way that she'd drooled on its floppy ears.

However all too soon the hour had grown too late and the children had drifted off. Arwen and the twins helped Aragorn to carry them off to their bedchambers before Elrohir suggested that the four of them gather together in one of the private dens in the royal quarters. Aragorn could think of no way that he could politely refuse and found himself trapped with both the painful reminders of the past and the embittering evidence of how much he despised the present.

Although it didn't bother him at all on any other day of the year Aragorn found that on Solstice it broke his heart a little each time whenever one of the twins called him 'Estel'. Would that he could be as happy as he was when he was that child of old! That feeling intensified even more when they started reminiscing about the Solstices of his childhood. _'Do you remember when you attempted to sing the Lay of Luthien when you were eight, Estel? Do you remember the year that you fell asleep on top of all the discarded wrapping paper, Estel?'_ Where they not as pained as he was about remembering that happy time that could never be replicated?

If that wasn't bad enough he also had to endure Arwen. He couldn't stand how she laughed at their stories and the way that she smiled fondly at him whenever her brothers brought up an embarrassing memory for Aragorn. What gave her the right to do that? She hadn't been a part of those Solstice celebrations; she'd spent all the years of his childhood hiding away from the world in Lothlorien. In fact, she'd never been a part of his life that he remembered happily and he hated having to pretend that it didn't bother him that she was acting as if she had been.

When he could take no more without exploding Aragorn excused himself from their company, telling them jokingly that he was giving them a time to talk behind his back. Then, after maintaining his kingly composure until he had walked outside and beyond the guards that were standing watch over the White Tree, he ran as fast as he could to the farthest-out point of the courtyard's cliffside. He wasn't exactly sure what he was running from but as soon as he looked out over the wall into the surrounding land he knew that he wasn't any more "home" for Solstice here than he had been anywhere else when he was a ranger. Something was missing.

It was a chilly evening but no snow was falling or covering the ground. Aragorn knew that there wouldn't be any until later on in the winter and even so it would only fall mildly – Gondor was too close to the Bay of Belfalas and too far south to get any _real_ snowfall. It seemed almost sacrilegious to Aragorn for there not to be any snow at Solstice – in Rivendell it had always started falling a good month before the holiday. Even as a ranger he'd traveled mainly in regions where snowfall was abundant, even though then it had been more of a nuisance and potential threat than a blessing.

Aragorn took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He wondered if Legolas was somewhere where it was snowing. He could just imagine his love walking around on top of it, white snowflakes falling to the ground all around him…

"There's not much to see in the dark," noted a voice coming unexpectedly from behind him.

"Elladan," said Aragorn, not turning around. "What brings you out here? You're supposed to be inside, sharing humiliating stories about me with Elrohir and your sister."

"Your wife was concerned that you'd gone outside without your coat so she asked me to find you and bundle you up," explained Elladan, coming forward and draping the garment on the Man's shoulders. He then walked around to stand and Aragorn's side, staring unblinkingly at him. "What brings _you_ out here?"

His tone sounded almost accusatory. "I'm just thinking," replied Aragorn ponderously. "Wondering, really."

"What about?" demanded Elladan. He looked out over the edge and frowned before turning back to the Man. "Arwen told me and Elrohir that every time you have an announcement you stand out here and let the wind carry off a copy of it for Legolas. Is that who you're thinking about? Him?"

"Yes," Aragorn told him quietly. "It's been over five-and-a-half years since anyone's seen or heard from him. I can't help but wonder where he is and why he isn't here. Why is it that he can't get in touch with the people – the people who care about him?"

Elladan squared his jaw. "I don't know," he said stiffly. He'd meant to leave it at that and not complicate the matter further, but the heaviness of the silence and the wistful look on his foster brother's face made him speak again before he could stop himself. "I know, Estel."

"You know what?" murmured Aragorn.

"I know that you and Legolas were," Elladan grimaced, "were romantically involved when you were in Mirkwood that summer before you met Arwen and..and became intimate during the War."

"We apparently did a poor job at hiding it," commented Aragorn, lacking the energy and inclination to deny it. "How did you figure it out?"

"What do you mean, a poor job at hiding it?" countered Elladan. He didn't like the idea of Estel's indiscretion being a matter of public knowledge. How humiliating that would be for Arwen! "Who else knows?"

"Gimli," answered Aragorn with a tired sigh. "He came here soon after Miriel was born to inform me that he knew all about our relationship before proceeding to blame me for Legolas vanishing. I haven't heard from him since; he sends the children messages and they got Solstice presents form him but I guess he doesn't consider me to be his friend anymore. I deserve to be scorned by him, and everyone else too, after what I did to Legolas."

"To Legolas?" repeated Elladan with a sharp intake of breath that made him sound too much like his father. "What about Arwen? You _betrayed_ her, Estel – you both did. I expected more from you; and Legolas" –

His voice cut off when Aragorn suddenly grabbed his arm hard. "Don't," warned the Man. "Not another word or I swear I'll do something extremely unpleasant. I didn't know that Arwen existed when he and I first fell in love, so we were betraying no one. As for what happened during the War, you should remember that I sent Arwen away. Legolas knew that she was supposed to be gone; yet he still didn't act upon his feelings until after I came back from supposedly being dead and professed my love for him. And when he found out that she was still here he gave me up for her sake. He bears no blame for our relationship, if any blame is required."

"You still love him and you're not sorry for it in the least," observed Elladan tersely. "I expected" –

"I am so sick of what people expect from me!" exploded Aragorn. "My so-called family lied to me all my life and then laid the burden of saving Mankind on my shoulders as if it was nothing! You, Elrohir, Ada, Arwen, Gandalf, everyone – you all looked at me like I owed you something and there was never any way that I could live up to your expectations and still be myself. Only one person has ever made me feel as if I was good enough just as I was – guess who that was."

Shame crept into Elladan's expression. "Estel" –

"I don't want to talk about it or anything else right now," interrupted Aragorn coldly. "For once just leave me in peace to enjoy the happy memories that I have. We can call that your Solstice gift to me."

Knowing that he could say nothing to mend the situation Elladan began to walk away slowly. "I'm sorry, Estel," he said in a subdued voice over his shoulder. "I truly am. Happy Solstice."

"Yeah," muttered Aragorn in a melancholy tone, not turning to face him. Tears pricked the Man's eyes as the irony of his words almost choked him. "Happy Solstice."

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

His ada might be calling it "Solstice" and his papa and the rest of the people of Rohan might be calling it "Yule" but for Caladel it didn't matter what its name was – no matter what he was still having one of the best days of his life (so far) on that day of celebration. First of all, he hadn't had to go to his tutoring lessons that day; while he enjoyed learning and spending time with his friends and everything it was nice to have a little break from that. Then he had found out at breakfast that _both_ of his fathers were taking the day off from their other duties so that the three of them could spend time together as a family. They'd spent the day riding, greeting messengers from the Glittering Caves and Eryn Lasgalan, and decorating the tiny saplings that had sprouted up in the buckets from the seeds that his grandfather had given him (his papa had mentioned something about cutting down a tree to decorate but both he and his ada had disliked the idea of felling a live tree). On top of all of that, after a day of fun there was a gigantic party going on now in the evening, one that he was going to be allowed to stay up late to attend.

The most exciting and wonderful part of it all in Caladel's mind, however, was happening a few rooms away from the loud festivities. He, Legolas, and Eomer were sitting together around a warm fireplace (burning something that his papa called a "Yule log"), taking the time to open presents in private before joining everyone else at the party. The boy eagerly tore the paper off of the package that his ada had just rested in his lap. "Oh, picture books!" cried Caladel excitedly, reverently thumbing through the pages. The books he'd had in Fangorn had faded a lot because of excess use and exposure to the elements and he'd almost forgotten how bright and vivid the colors could be.

"One is from Eryn Lasgalan; it tells the story of our family and how we came to settle there," Legolas told him, pointing to the picture of wood elves that Caladel was currently looking at. "And the other is from Rohan; that is about Eorl the Young and his family."

"They're so beautiful," declared Caladel in awe. "Thank you so much, Ada."

"You're welcome, ion nin," replied Legolas with a big smile. Caladel couldn't remember the last time that he'd seen his ada so happy.

"All right, all right, mine next!" exclaimed Eomer, a childishly eager grin spreading from ear to ear as he thrust another wrapped present into the boy's hands.

Caladel wasted no time in tearing all the paper away to reveal a wonderful, shiny new bridle. "Oh, it's so fancy," he said proudly. None of his friends had any riding equipment that looked so grown up. He smiled as he imagined how skilled and majestic he'd look at his next riding lesson. "Thank you, Papa! I'm going to take extra-special care of it." Suddenly his smile faded a bit and he looked distressed. "Oh no!"

"What's wrong?" asked Eomer.

"I didn't get you two anything," lamented Caladel. "I should have, right? I'm sorry."

"Oh, Caladel," said Legolas, drawing his son into his arms. "You didn't need to get anything."

"You've already given us both so much," added Eomer, planting a kiss on the boy's brow. "That and the fact that you even thought about it is the best gift that we could have asked for."

Caladel didn't quite understand what exactly he'd given them but he was relieved nonetheless that his parents weren't feeling slighted. "That's good," he said. Carefully he put his presents in a neat pile and began to rise to his feet. "Is it time for us to go to the party now?"

"No," said Legolas and Eomer in unison. Both of them smiled apologetically at each other before the Man nodded his deferment to Legolas. "There are still a few more presents left to open. Where to begin? Well, I guess with the ones that came with the messenger today."

"The ones from Gimli?" wondered Caladel, though he doubted that was what his ada was talking about. After all, Legolas had been there when the boy had torn open those packages, not knowing that they were special gifts for later – to discover a slew of dwarf-made toys that were just for him.

Legolas shook his head. "From your grandfather," he stated as he pulled out five presents that had been concealed in the shadows of a nearby corner. Two he placed in front of Caladel, two he handed to Eomer, and one he kept for himself. "He made me promise to keep these a surprise until it was time to open them. Go ahead, Caladel – you first."

The boy didn't need to be told twice. "Oh, look!" he cried, brandishing the first present for everyone to see.

"Oh, dear Elbereth," gasped Legolas in exasperation, plucking said gift – a _real_ knife with a bejeweled hilt – away from him. "This is a family heirloom, Caladel; it once belonged to your great-grandfather Oropher. We must write to Ada and thank him for such an age-appropriate gift."

Judging by his ada's tone Caladel knew that he wasn't going to get to use the knife for a long, long time. Oh well; he liked the other present – a toy bow with arrows – just as much. "You open yours next," he encouraged Eomer as Legolas examined the arrows to make sure that they'd been blunted.

"All right," agreed Eomer, staring down at the two small packages with a bit of trepidation. He wasn't sure how he'd react to whatever gifts that Thranduil deemed appropriate for him. "He really didn't have to send me anything, you know," he added as he tore them both open together. "Oh my."

"From his gem collection," nodded Legolas knowingly, eying the ruby and emerald. "I would guess they're for your crown or some other kingly thing. You must have made a good impression on him, Eomer."

"What did he send you, Ada?" asked Caladel.

"Let's find out," sighed Legolas, opening up his present. It was a fancy box; when he opened it he found it filled with rich dark soil. The elf almost wept as he touched it. "It's a little bit of the Woodland Realm. But that's Ada – he always seems to know exactly what I want."

Something nagged at Caladel as he watched his ada finger that beloved bit of the earth. "How come you only got one present, Ada?" he asked.

"Oh, he sent me something else," Legolas assured him. By the sound of his voice it was clear that the elf didn't know whether he should be amused or annoyed by whatever that 'something else' was. "I had a feeling that I knew what it was from the moment I saw that package. I decided to open in it our suite to see if I was right and I was."

"What was it?" asked Eomer.

"That's not important right now," replied Legolas. Judging from his tone he didn't think that it would _ever_ be important. "What is important is that there's still one gift left."

He reached over into the corner again, brought forth a bottle of wine, and presented it grandly to Eomer. "From me to you," he declared with exaggerated pride. "It's a bottle of Dorwinion. I figure that you'll need to build up more of a tolerance for the potency of elvish wine before the next time we visit Eryn Lasgalan, so why not build it with the best? Savor it! I had to slay a mighty dragon just to get my hands on a bottle."

"Really?" asked Caladel innocently. "But Grandfather has some! Why didn't you just ask him for one?"

"When it comes to convincing him to part with any of the Dorwinion, ion nin," said Legolas with a twinkle in his eye, "asking your grandfather and slaying a dragon are practically one and the same."

"Well, I thank you for both the present and your bravery in acquiring it," said Eomer with a quirk of a smile. "Now, if you two don't mind delaying our entrance to the festivities for a moment or so longer, I have a present for _you_, Legolas."

He hastily – Caladel could have sworn that he looked nervous while doing so – handed Legolas a long-ish box. Legolas nodded in acknowledgement and opened it, smiling when he saw what was inside. "They're arm bracers," explained Eomer awkwardly and unnecessarily. "For when you shoot."

"Yes they are," said Legolas, pulling one of them out to examine it more closely. The leather was strong and beautiful; and its intricate design, a symbol of the royal house of Rohan, was awe-inspiring in its detail. "Of excellent quality, I would say, and very handsome to boot. What a thoughtful gift, Eomer; thank you."

Eomer gulped silently as Legolas impulsively grabbed his shoulder. "You're very welcome," he whispered.

There was something inexplicable but almost visible hanging in the air between the two of them in the moment that their eyes locked. Caladel tried to hide how he was watching them, but they really wouldn't have noticed if he blatantly staring. "I," said Eomer at length, unconsciously licking his lips. "I guess we should get to the party now."

"Yes," agreed Legolas, slowly letting the Man go. "Everyone must be wondering what's taking us so long. Let's go, Caladel."

Even though he'd been looking forward to the party all day, as he watched his parents move away from each other and the moment end Caladel couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The Yule celebration was in full swing by the time that the trio arrived and showed no sign of dying down as the evening wore on. Wading through the groups of drunken Men singing off-key at the top of their lungs and the ones gorging on the feast the soldier Alfmund searched high and low for Caladel. He grinned when he finally spotted the boy sitting by himself at a smaller table in a quieter corner and he immediately made his way over. "There you are," the Man said triumphantly as he sat down next to Caladel. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Why?" asked Caladel. He'd been sitting in the same place for a good amount of time. His parents thought that he was just getting tired but really the elfling had wanted to find a good place to think.

"Because I have a present for you," said Alfmund, pulling out a piece of rolled-up parchment from under his tunic and setting it in front of the boy. "It's not a toy or anything, but I know how much you like pictures and stuff like that. I hope that you like this! I drew it myself from memory."

Caladel thought that he knew almost everything about Alfmund after all of the time that they'd spent together but he found himself surprised to see just how good the drawing was. It featured the boy with his parents; from the braids in Eomer's hair he guessed that the memory had been of when the three of them had returned to Edoras from Eryn Lasgalan. Alfmund had managed to capture the details of how they all looked perfectly and Caladel found himself staring wistfully at the way that the young Man had portrayed how his papa looked at his ada. "It's wonderful, Alfmund. Thank you."

Alfmund frowned with concern at the sadness that had crept into the elfling's voice. "Caladel, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Well…I'm not sure," Caladel hesitated.

"I think you do," replied Alfmund nicely. "It's all right, Caladel; you can tell me. Do you not like the picture?"

"No! I mean, I do like it – that's not what's wrong," sighed Caladel, carefully tracing his fingertips over the images of his fathers. "It's just that – well, Papa's looking at Ada here the same way that he was looking at him when we were done opening presents tonight; and I think that Ada was starting to look at him the same way."

"What way is that?" wondered Alfmund.

"Like, I don't know, like they want to kiss or something," said Caladel plaintively. "But they never kiss. Almost all of my friends' parents do, but Ada and Papa don't. Why is that, Alfmund? I think they'd be really happy if they'd just kiss each other whenever they wanted to."

Alfmund was rendered speechless for a moment. While his king's feelings for the elf hadn't escaped his (or many other people's, for that matter) attention he never imagined he'd be discussing it with their son. "I – I – can't say," he stammered, groping desperately for something to say that would satisfy Caladel without overstepping his bounds.

While Caladel was patiently waiting for Alfmund to stop tripping over his words Legolas was at the table of ale barrels, filling up his mug. Bringing it to his lips and taking a big gulp he decided that, watered down as it was (to his tastes at least) the drink was beginning to grow on him. At least he could drink large quantities of it without losing senses.

Giving the Men around him a little salute with his mug, Legolas turned around to make his way back to his table. He hadn't taken more than two steps when Léod, one of Rohan's senior soldiers, came up to him. A huge grin was plastered on the Man's face and it was plain to see that he was completely inebriated. Without a word Léod shoved something – mistletoe, it was mistletoe – into Legolas' hand.

Mistletoe? Hadn't Eomer mentioned something about Rohan having a mistletoe tradition for Yule? Legolas opened his mouth to ask Léod about it but before any words came out the Man placed a seconds-long sloppy, drunken kiss on his cheek. The elf stood there shocked as Léod pulled away and nodded happily. "On the mouth!" the soldier slurred loudly.

His voice seemed to echo throughout the suddenly very quiet room. "I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas, perplexed and a little incredulous.

"On the mouth!" repeated Léod, tapping the hand that was holding the mistletoe. Legolas' eyebrows shot up. "One kiss on the mouth."

Everyone watched even more intently as Eomer came up to stand at Legolas' side. The king of Rohan had started making his way over the second he's seen Léod approach the elf with the mistletoe in hand. Frustrated with himself for not intervening in time he glared warningly at the other Man before turning to the prince. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, looking sincerely embarrassed. "It's just – our mistletoe tradition. You see, when someone hands someone else mistletoe the giver tells the receiver where to kiss someone and the receiver chooses who they're going to kiss. After they kiss that person then gives the mistletoe to the person they just kissed and the cycle begins again, with the former receiver now being the giver who dictates where the next kiss is going to be."

"On the mouth!" repeated Léod jovially. He was not drunk enough, though, to not notice how displeased his king was and he withered a bit under Eomer's glare. "Uh, on the _corner_ of the mouth," he amended.

"Legolas doesn't have to participate in this, Léod," growled Eomer warningly. "Find someone else."

"What, you mean you're going to let him get a free kiss out of me?" asked Legolas in a teasing tone. "I had to endure that sloppy, wet kiss and now you don't want me to try to get a nicer one out of someone else. Where's your sense of tradition, Eomer? Or your sense of fair play, for that matter?"

The crowd, relieved to see that Legolas was good-naturedly going along with their tradition, let out an encouraging cheer. "I – I just thought" – Eomer stammered over the noise, amazed.

"That you'd come save me?" supplied Legolas wryly. "My big, strong rescuer. Are you worried that I'm going to fall into the wrong hands – or against the wrong lips, as the case may be?"

"Well, _some _of the Men here aren't exactly exercising good judgment right now," pointed out Eomer, glancing over at Léod.

"True," conceded Legolas. "I will put your mind at ease, then, and give you a reward for your attentiveness by kissing…_you_."

"For two seconds," chimed in Léod helpfully. "It's got to be for at least two seconds or else it doesn't count."

"I think I can handle that," Legolas smirked at Eomer.

The elf reached up and cupped Eomer's cheek, gently turning the Man's head to where he wanted it and then pulling him in for the kiss. Eomer was in complete bliss and utter agony when he felt Legolas' lips against the very corner of his mouth, touching his own lips and yet not touching them at the same time. It was wonderful and terrible, a dream come true and not enough. Eomer couldn't stop himself from leaning his head in as if he was going to kiss Legolas in the same manner as the prince was kissing him but he forced himself not to.

So caught up was he that he didn't realize that Legolas had slipped the mistletoe into his hand until the elf gently pulled away. "My turn," said Legolas with an unexpected bit of softness in his voice that belied his mischievous smile. "Where should you have to kiss someone?"

"Don't think too hard," teased Eomer, tucking the mistletoe into a side pocket and patting it cheekily. "I'm the king and I say that I'm exempt from this."

As the rest of the group joined Legolas in voice loud, playful, exaggerated groans of disappointment, Alfmund turned back to Caladel with a genuine smile. "See? They did kiss."

"I'm glad," declared Caladel happily, gazing down at the drawing once more. "I like this Yule, or Solstice, or whatever it's called, and now I got everything I wanted."

'_More than you know,'_ thought Alfmund, although he couldn't bear to say it out loud and get the boy's hopes up prematurely. Still, the young Man could count and he, like everyone else in the room who had that skill, had been counting the seconds of Legolas and Eomer's kiss to make sure that it lasted the whole two seconds. Perhaps Legolas himself hadn't noticed it, but the elf had held his lips against the king's mouth for the required amount of time and then eight seconds more.

To be continued…

_A/N: This story got its 300th review (and beyond!) last chapter. Thank you so much!_


	24. Subconscious mind

Legolas' nights were always filled with dreams, often troubled but sometimes of a different, more pleasurable and yet confusing at the same time, nature. During his years in Fangorn he had loved being in his son's company to a degree that he couldn't have if he'd stayed in the outside world, and he'd enjoyed his conversations with the Ents. Still, there had been a void in his life that none of those beings could fill: the need for adult companionship in the form of someone who could relate to him on a more personal level than the Ents ever could. In the darkest nights when it had felt as if no one in his old life cared if he was alive or not Legolas would long for the warmth…and passion…of a lover's touch.

As he'd been burned by a lover's touch before, as well as the passion that had erupted from it and the empty promises of love that had gone along with all of that Legolas hadn't often desired that while he was in the forest. And yet, there had been nights still when that was exactly what he dreamed of. Of course since he'd only ever had – and wanted – one partner in that respect those dreams would often feature Aragorn. On the mornings after Legolas had always felt as if he'd betrayed himself in some way by letting that Man do what he wanted to him. Even though they had been only dreams the elf still couldn't help but hate himself a little for dreaming about Aragorn like that; but all of the self-loathing in the world couldn't stop the dreams from coming.

Now as his heart continued to mend in Rohan Legolas was finding that those passion-filled dreams were coming more and more frequently. In fact, since the Yule/Solstice festivities he'd been having an embarrassing number of them. This new crop had many of the same elements of the ones of old: large Mannish hands caressing his body intimately, soft lips kissing the back of his neck while the surrounding facial hair tickled the skin so tantalizingly, and a firm, solid body flush against his. But in two ways the dreams were very different from the ones he'd had in Fangorn: first, Legolas stopped them before they went too far, and secondly, he never looked into the face of the person who was touching him.

Oh, the elf couldn't bear to think about Aragorn in his subconscious now that the Man was steadily leaving the forefronts of his conscious thought! Legolas finally felt as if he was winning the battle for his emotions and he couldn't let a few stubborn dreams impede that. No matter how hard it was, no matter how much he desired to give in just one last time he always forced himself awake before he had to look at his nocturnal lover and know that he wasn't as strong-willed as he wished that he was.

One night, however, Legolas found himself sick and tired of fleeing from his own fantasies. How was the pattern of dreaming and making himself wake up empowering him any more than confronting whatever feelings he had for Aragorn head-on. Perhaps it would be better for him to deal directly with whatever these emotions were that were bringing on the dreams instead of giving them power over him by hiding from them.

One cold winter night between the Yule/Solstice celebration and Caladel's birthday, Legolas resolved to do just that. With an odd mixture of relief, anticipation, and dread the elf went to sleep, deciding once and for all to give himself over completely to whatever dreams came to him. Sure enough, one betook him very soon.

_O – Dream – O_

_He was standing in a doorway, peering in at Caladel as the boy slept peacefully in his soft, warm, comfortable bed. All of Legolas' pleasant dreams, no matter what happened in them later on, always started like this; he'd come to believe that it was his mind's way of letting him know that his son was fine and not missing, and that he was free to do whatever he was going to do without worrying about the boy's safety. Even in his dreams Legolas was a father first._

_Somehow knowing, as he often did when his subconscious took over, that no ill would befall Caladel, Legolas closed the door quietly and walked down an unidentifiable – yet at the same time familiar – corridor. For how long he didn't know (even though it seemed like the perfect amount of distance from his son's bedchamber; close enough that he could still be nearby in case of an emergency but far enough away that he could be assured that Caladel wouldn't hear what was about to happen), but at the right time he happened upon the right door. There was no hesitation in his body or mind when he opened it and walked inside._

_He'd walked right into a bedchamber that was fit to be the setting for even the most romantic of fantasies. A large bed lay before him with the covers already neatly folded down. The sheets revealed there were made of the softest, finest material imaginable. A fire burned calmly in a fireplace on one of the walls and the whole bedchamber was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. This, Legolas knew, was the place where people went to make love._

_Legolas was suddenly aware of the fact that he was wearing a robe and beneath that one silky garment he was completely naked. It seemed that as the bedchamber was prepared to be a place of lovemaking so was he ready to be made love to. _'Give yourself over,' _a feeling from he-didn't-know-where whispered._

_The elf shivered in anticipation. He didn't need any prompting; he was eagerly anticipating the arrival of the Man that he was waiting for. How he longed to give himself over completely to him! He would feel safe, cherished, pleasured, and above all loved with his lover – Legolas was sure of that._

_Suddenly out of nowhere – for there was no way that any Man would have been able to sneak up on him unless he appeared out of thin air – a body pressed up flush against his back. Two rough but tender hands began to slide all over his body, one down his chest and resting on his stomach and the other tracing patterns into the skin of his throat while lovingly urging him to let his head fall to one side. Legolas moaned appreciatively as he complied utterly with all that his lover desired. So good – it felt so good already and they'd only just begun._

_Lips brushed their way up against the back of the elf's neck until they were on one of his ears, mouthing the tip. A million pleasurable sensations buzzed through Legolas' skin and all he could think about was how much he wanted more. "I found you," the Man breathed into his ear._

"_At last," sighed Legolas, turning slightly in an attempt to feel more of that mind-blowing touch. "I was afraid that you would have given up on me by now. I know that I can be very difficult to find."_

"_Not from me," declared the Man as he placed the sweetest kiss ever on the point of Legolas' flesh where his jawline met his throat. The kiss itself was chaste enough but that particular spot was very sensitive on the elf; any touch against it, especially one that involved the added tickle of facial hair, was enough to make him writhe with pleasure._

_The Man held him tighter as Legolas cried out and pressed himself further against the body behind him. "I will never give up on you," he went on. "No matter how arduous the search may be at time you are worth it and so much more. Never, ever lose faith that I am coming for you. I will never let you be alone again."_

_Those words were like one thousand kisses on that sensitive spot on his neck. Legolas closed his eyes momentarily to soak them in before speaking the name that lingered on the tip of his tongue: "Eomer."_

_He turned in the embrace to come face-to-face with the king of Rohan. Eomer stroked his cheek reverently and planted open-mouthed, lingering kisses along his jawbone from ear to ear. "Legolas," breathed the Man in a voice that set the prince's skin ablaze._

"_Tell me," pleaded Legolas, turning his head into the king's ministrations. "Say it, Eomer. Tell me again – tell me always – Eomer, please, I need to hear you tell me."_

"_I love you, Legolas," declared Eomer. He pulled away just enough to be able to look into the elf's eyes. Legolas almost reeled at the sincerity, desire, and yes, love that he saw in the depths of Eomer's deep brown orbs. "I have loved you for so long that it is difficult to imagine me _not _loving you. I cannot begin to describe how much I'm in love with you. My life would not be whole unless you were in it, and I will never do anything that would make you leave me. My heart has, does, and will always belong to you, Legolas, and no one else."_

_Legolas seized the back of the Man's head and in one fluid motion pulled Eomer to him, joining their mouths in a searing kiss. A lot of Eomer's personality came through when he kissed, the elf realized: it was always gentle yet strong; firm without being too forceful; respectful but not too chaste; and full of a slow-burning but all-consuming fire. When their tongues met at first they playfully dueled for dominance before the Man gradually – so much so that Legolas didn't even notice the change until it was almost complete – got serious, using his tongue to mimic everything that Legolas wanted him to do to him elsewhere._

"_Eomer, I need" – panted Legolas. "I need you to make love to me, Eomer."_

_The elf's hands flew down to the tie that held his robe closed but a pair of strong hands covered them before he could untie it. "Not yet," whispered Eomer in response to the questioning look that Legolas was giving him. "Do you really want to go so fast, beloved?"_

_Legolas never thought of that before; every other time he'd made love time was of the essence and fast was the only way that he and his partner could have done it. "I…" he said. "Slowly, I would love to go slowly and enjoy it as much as I can. Do we have enough time?"_

"_We have all night, my love," replied Eomer tenderly. "Tonight is all about what you want; but as for me I would like to savor this, not skip to the end like it's some kind of race."_

"_We could hardly do that when you're wearing so many garments," Legolas pointed out teasingly while a warm, contented feeling spread throughout his heart. "Tonight is all about my desires, you say? Well, right now I would like nothing more than to see you without them."_

"_Then you shall," grinned Eomer, un-tucking his shirt._

"_If I may," requested Legolas, reaching out to grip the hem before Eomer could do anything more._

_The Man understood immediately and let Legolas pull the shirt from his body and toss it aside. Long slender fingers roamed across his exposed chest. Legolas paused to caress and finger, seemingly fascinated with the blonde hair that was there. Eomer started to say something but his words were turned into a throaty moan when the elf's touches moved to either nipple, tracing circles there._

"_I love your body," smiled Legolas. "It's so magnificent in its textures and contrasts. All of that wonderful hair is all over your chest, except for right here where you are very sensitive. We elves don't have hair anywhere except on the tops of our heads."_

"_May I see?" Eomer asked him. Legolas nodded, pulling his robe aside a little with one hand while he used the other to bring one of the king's hands over to touch his chest. "You're right," he noted with a sense of awe. "Your skin is so smooth; it's like fine silk that a mere Man is not worthy to touch."_

"_But I want you to touch me," countered Legolas softly as his feelings and desires intensified at one of the most private places on his body. One glance down confirmed that Eomer was experiencing the same needs. Suddenly a mischievous, amorous smile spread across the elf's face. "I can show you exactly how I'd like you to do so if you'll let me help you out of your breeches."_

_Eomer moaned appreciatively at the suggestion. "I must sit down first," he said, managing to get out a little chuckle. "Your words alone are enough to undo me and I would just as soon not embarrass myself by swooning at the first touch."_

_Laughing joyfully, Legolas followed Eomer to the bed. The Man sat down on the edge and Legolas soon found that sitting was not contusive to taking off his pants. Well, that wouldn't do, not with his plans; so the elf gently pushed his shoulders until Eomer was lying on his back. That position made it easier for him to slide off the king's pants and before long Eomer was totally nude. Tossing the breeches behind him, Legolas crawled up onto the bed and laid down, half next to his lover and half on top of him._

_Eomer touched his face and ran his fingers through his hair before pulling Legolas down into another passionate kiss, coaxing his lips apart and claiming his mouth utterly. The elf let himself enjoy it for a few moments before having his hand fall to the Man's chest again. Eomer didn't notice the hand moving down, down, until it reached his erection. Soon the king's cries, gasps, pleas, and moans filled the air whenever his mouth wasn't engaged in kissing Legolas._

_They carried on like that for awhile but soon enough desire was threatening to overcome them both. Slowly Eomer rolled them until it was Legolas who was on his back and he who was on top. "I cannot last much longer," he declared in a gasp, looking deep into the prince's eyes. Legolas nodded and the Man untied his robe while his other hand slid up between the elf's legs. "Let me make love to you now; I so desire to show you how much I love you."_

"_Yes," whispered Legolas passionately as he spread his legs apart so that Eomer could prepare him. It was a vulnerable position to be in; Legolas usually hated being that exposed but now he knew that he could trust Eomer completely. The Man took extra care that his fingers caused the least amount of pain possible while he deliberately brought his lover as much pleasure as he could._

_Finally, when Legolas could take no more of his sensational teasing, Eomer removed his fingers and carefully but confidently joined his body with the elf's. Legolas was amazed at how _aware_ he was of every feeling that went along with the penetration – it truly felt as if they were becoming one in more than just a physical sense. "Oh, Eomer," cried Legolas, nearing incoherence as pleasure and frustration mingled at the ends of every nerve. "Move, please. Take me, melethnin; take me, my wonderful, beautiful Eomer! Take – take me – ohhhh, yes!"_

_Eomer was an excellent lover: attentive, selfless, and so very, very good at hitting the right place with the right amount of strength with his hard shaft every time he thrust. Legolas wanted to ask him how he could give Eomer just as much pleasure as he was getting from him but he'd been reduced to mindless babbling. It was an unnecessary question, anyway – from the look in the Man's eyes as they locked with Legolas' the elf knew that Eomer had never felt so complete and pleasured in his life. They moved together as one until Eomer brought Legolas to his climax. The prince knew that he'd never felt anything so intense and astounding as he released and he squeezed his muscles that surrounded the Man so that Eomer could experience that too._

_For a while afterward they laid together, trying to regain their breaths. Eomer did not pull out of Legolas' body; something that the elf was extremely happy about, as he loved the feeling of having his lover inside of him. "You called me 'melethnin'," said Eomer at length. "What does that mean?"_

"_My beloved," Legolas translated as he brought his hand up to caress the Man's bearded cheek. "You _are_ my beloved – I love you, Eomer."_

"_I love you too, Legolas."_

_O – End Dream – O_

Legolas awoke with a start. "Dear Elbereth," he gasped.

"Ada?" a little voice sounded from one side of his bed. Legolas jumped and whipped around to guiltily face Caladel, who was watching him with worried eyes. "Are you all right? You were moaning in your sleep."

It was strange: Legolas was the father there and yet he felt like he was the child, getting caught while stealing a treat. "I'm fine," he said quickly, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to blot out any desire that was left there from the dream. "What are you doing in here, ion nin? Did I wake you up?"

"No," Caladel shook his head. "It's almost time for breakfast."

"Oh," replied Legolas dimly. "I…why don't you head down there without me? I'll catch up in a few minutes. I'm _fine_," he added under Caladel's doubtful gaze. "I just need a moment or two to gather my bearings.

Caladel didn't look too happy about it – and was, in fact, still a little scared, as he'd only known his ada to moan in his sleep when he was having a fit like the one he'd had on the night that they'd first come to Edoras – but he complied, walking out slowly and shutting the door behind him. Legolas' shoulders sagged the second that he was alone again. "Where did _that _dream come from?" he wondered aloud; but he was too shocked and anxious to really explore the answer to that for several minutes.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It was about an hour later when Legolas was finally walking down the corridor toward the dining hall, scolding himself with each step about waiting for so long to head to breakfast – now, if he was extremely fortunate, he _might_ manage to see Caladel before the boy went off to his morning of lessons. He'd been neglecting his child that morning and for what? One tiny dream that was initially very confusing but now he could see was insignificant? That was no excuse! He'd had many unusual and often disturbing dreams about anything and everything before, and there was (as he'd finally managed to convince himself before he left his bedchamber) nothing about this last one that made it different from any of those.

So what if he'd just dreamed that he'd had the most incredible sex of his life (although admittedly he only had two other experiences to compare it with) with a loving, kind – _virile – _considerate and generous Eomer? Legolas told himself that he shouldn't have let himself get so rattled about it; after all, it wasn't as if the dream actually _meant_ anything. He knew that he certainly wasn't in love with the Man, as he'd been in love with Aragorn once (and still retained enough confusing feelings to make himself think that he still was at times) and how he felt about Eomer didn't feel exactly like that. _'Maybe it might be something like when I first met Aragorn in Mirkwood,' _Legolas admitted to himself begrudgingly, _'but I'm not as naïve now than I was back then. I know better than to risk our friendship and his relationship with Caladel because of a tiny, little bit of _slightly _warmer than friendship emotions.'_

Yes, now that he thought about it more Legolas could plainly see that the dream had nothing to do at all with the person in it. It had just…been a long time since he'd been gratified in that sense and an even longer one since it was another person doing it. Everyone knew that it was perfectly _natural _to want to be touched every once in a while and since he adamantly refused to put himself in a situation like that dreams were the only outlet he had for those longings. As for his subconscious' choice for a bed-partner, well, the idea of being intimate with a complete stranger had never held any appeal for Legolas; so _of course_ that would mean that if he was going to dream about making love – _'Sex! Sex! Not making love!' _he caught himself – he would dream about someone that he knew.

Really, now that he thought about it, Eomer was the most likely person to show up in a dream like that and there was nothing complicated about that! What was so terrible about having his dream lover – and by dream lover he meant the lover in his actual dream, not the lover that he dreamt of having – be that particular Man anyway? There was certainly no elf that he felt closer to at the moment; and besides, he'd only been with a Man anyway, so naturally his dreams would take him back to that familiar body form. And would he rather have had that Man be Aragorn? No! Every dream he'd had before during the last almost six years that remotely resembled the one he'd had last night had featured Aragorn and Legolas had always hated that – or rather hated himself for giving in to the person who left him for someone else, even if it was only in his subconscious. This last dream had made him feel a little confused and foolish but he wasn't hating himself for it.

No person in his place would choose to dream about Aragorn over Eomer if those were his only two options! At least he knew that Eomer was loyal. And kind. And funny. And loving to an incredible degree. And strong in mind, body, and will – no one could compel the king of Rohan into giving up the person he claimed to love more than anything. And he was attentive, always seeing to it that Legolas and Caladel had everything that they needed and more. Not to mention understanding, never once pressuring the elf to talk any more about his falling out with Aragorn or the identity of Caladel's sire. And Eomer was an excellent father, too – the kind that he'd always wished that his son's sire by blood would have been. Not to mention that he was very, very handsome.

Legolas almost laughed aloud at his own foolishness. Of course, now that he was going over it in his mind, he could see why he'd dreamed of Eomer like that! What was harder to understand, really, was why he hadn't had that same dream sooner and more often. Not because he was attracted to the Man in that way, naturally; but because Eomer was attractive, in both body and soul, in a _general _sense. Legolas' emotional scars weren't so deep that he couldn't appreciate someone that was nice to look at, but it wasn't as if he fell in love with, or even felt a powerful physical attraction to, _everyone _with that sort of quality. While Eomer might have a handsome face, gorgeous brown eyes, a wonderful mouth, strong hands, powerful arms, and a personality that made it clear that not all of his good attributes were on the outside, it was very easy for Legolas to overlook all of that and not explore any more-than-friendly feelings he _might _have for the Man.

'_I'm gland that I got all of that figured out before I let my confusion make something weird and uncomfortable happen,' _decided Legolas resolutely as he opened the doors to the dining hall.

Caladel was just leaving the table when Legolas entered. "Ada!" the elfling cried happily, scurrying over and giving him a huge and enthusiastic embrace. "I'm so glad that you're here! I thought you were sick and I don't want you to be sick."

"Elves don't get sick, silly," Legolas reminded him kindly as he planted a tender kiss on the child's brow and smiled down at him. "I was just having a more difficult time than usual getting myself around this morning. Don't worry about it anymore, Caladel; I'm certainly not. Right now all I feel is happiness that I got the chance to see you before you have to be at your lessons!"

The boy studied his ada closely. In his eyes Legolas seemed fine enough; but then again there had never been any warnings before when his strange fits would happen. Maybe he was just good at hiding when he wasn't feeling well. "I don't have to go to my lessons today," offered Caladel hesitantly. "Maybe I should stay with you…"

"I admire your efforts, ion nin," said Legolas wryly, "but it's not going to work. I'm fine and you have to spend your morning with the tutors, as usual. In fact, if I'm not mistaken you're going to be late if you don't leave right now."

"If you're sure," hedged Caladel.

Legolas nodded resolutely. "Very sure," he replied. "Go on now, child, and have a good day! And do try not to worry so much about me; _I'm _the one who's supposed to be worrying about _you_."

"We worry about each other, remember? You and me against the world – well you and me and Papa against the world," amended Caladel with a smile. Legolas twitched a little and the boy assumed that his ada was just anxious for him to leave before he was tardy. "All right, I'm going – but you be sure to eat something. Papa, make sure that Ada eats!"

Eomer was approaching Legolas even before Caladel had left, shutting the door behind him. The elf turned to watch him come closer…and closer…and closer. There were no words to describe how relieved he felt to see that nothing had changed between them. Sure, his heart was beating a little faster than what was normal; and his breathing was becoming slightly hitched; but that was _nothing_. Legolas was certain that there was a perfectly logical explanation for those things even if he couldn't make his mind function well enough to think of one at the moment. All right, perhaps he felt _a_ _little _on edge, but that was to be expected after sharing a night of passion with someone in one's dreams and then having to face them in conscious life, right?

"Our son was very quick to inform me that you weren't feeling well," the Man said, seemingly oblivious to Legolas' state. He smiled and presented the elf with a green apple. "I agree with him: you should eat something."

Legolas stared at the apple. Eomer had found out that he preferred green apples to red about a month after he and Caladel had come to Meduseld and had almost immediately went out of his way to make sure that there were always green apples on hand. Eomer was so thoughtful…. "Thank you," said the elf quietly.

"Legolas, what's wrong?" asked Eomer, concerned. "You haven't teased me once today, not even when Caladel told me to essentially take care of you. _Are_ you feeling ill?"

"No, nothing like that," said Legolas, mindful to take a bite of the apple as if to prove what he was saying. "It's nothing as serious as that, really. I just had an…unsettling dream last night."

This answer was not to Eomer's liking. "About someone taking Caladel away?" he guessed, remembering the nightmares that had plagued the elf before he knew that he could trust Eomer to keep the boy a secret. "Oh, Legolas; not again. When did you start having them this time?"

"I'm…" Legolas started but his voice trailed off. He stalled for time by continuing to eat the apple.

Noting Legolas' anxiousness with growing worry the Man put a comforting hand on his back and started rubbing it in a circular motion. Eomer didn't miss how the elf started to chomp down quicker with noisier bites. "You can tell me, Legolas," he said encouragingly.

"It's not…" Legolas tried again, but found himself too distracted to finish the thought. Elbereth, why was he imagining all of the wonderful things that his dream Eomer had done with his hands? And why was he finding himself wishing that the Man's had would somehow find its way under his tunic and massage his skin directly? "It isn't…anything to…. Last night's dream was simply a one-time…preposterous…"

"Legolas," said Eomer as he brought his other hand to the elf's cheek to feel if it was warm with fever, "you're not acting like yourself."

"I'm all right," insisted Legolas, keenly aware of how the Man's fingers felt against his face and remembering those dream caresses.

"You're trembling," noted Eomer anxiously. Desperate for any way to ease Legolas' troubled mind he impulsively brought his other hand up to the other cheek, seizing the prince's face and looking at him earnestly. "I cannot take these dreams away from you, but I can promise that they will not come true! Legolas, I swear upon my honor and all the love in my being that no one will take our son from you as long as there is still breath in my body."

"I – I believe you," said Legolas. His body, acting on its own accord without the consent of his mind (which knew better), raised his hands to cover ones that were still cupping his face.

Eomer traced lines in the elf's temples with his fingertips. "I know you do," he said. "I just want you to always remember it."

Their faces were so close. It would be so easy for Legolas to lean forward and give Eomer a _real_ kiss; not like the one given at the Solstice celebration but more like one of the kisses of his dream. He wondered if Eomer's lips would be as soft as he imagined them to be the previous night…why was he allowing himself to think in such a way? "Eomer," breathed Legolas in a cracked whisper, almost frightened at how hard it was to control his body's impulses and how impossible it was to control his thoughts and feelings.

"Something _is _wrong," said Eomer, moving one hand to stroke Legolas' soft blonde locks. While he still believed that the root of the elf's strange, out-of-character behavior was the unsettling dream of the previous night, there had to be more to it than that. He'd _never_ seen Legolas act like this, not even when he'd cried in Eomer's arms the first night of his father's visit to Edoras. "I'm not going to my office today. There's nothing that I have to do that can't wait until tomorrow, so there's no reason why I can't spend today taking care of you. We can discuss what we're going to do to celebrate Caladel's birthday in a few weeks. Come, I'll tuck you into bed and then we can" –

"No!" protested Legolas quickly, pulling his hands down and his body out of Eomer's grasp. Dear Elbereth, if he was having trouble controlling his body's reactions now – oh, he couldn't let himself think about what would happen if Eomer tucked him into bed. "It was a silly dream; certainly not worth postponing the rule of Rohan over! I'm all right!"

Eomer didn't look convinced. "Still, it wouldn't hurt if the two of us took a little time off. No one would fault us for using the time to discuss Caladel's birthday."

"There's no need for that," said Legolas. "We shouldn't be discussing what we're going to do on Caladel's birthday without Caladel; and anyway he always asks to go swimming for his birthday and I always have to say no because the rivers are too icy and sometimes frozen over. Let's talk about this with him over dinner tonight. Besides, I have an archery class to teach later on this morning and I won't need to be taken care of there. Everything's fine, Eomer; I just need some time outside in the sun."

"If you're sure," hesitated Eomer.

"You're starting to sound like Caladel," teased Legolas with more warmth now that he'd found a way to take the conversation into a more comfortable direction.

"What can I say?" grinned Eomer broadly. "Our son is smart, considerate, and exceedingly well-versed in the art of politeness; he takes after me in that regard. The two of us only want for you to be happy."

Before he could stop himself – before he could even _think_ – Legolas threw his arms around Eomer. "I'm very fortunate that the both of you care so much about me," he murmured. The Man wrapped him into a strong embrace and Legolas was content, just happy to feel their bodies pressed together…

What in the name of all that was good in Middle-earth was he doing? What was he letting happen that he couldn't, for his son's sake as well as his own, let happen? Legolas hastily pulled away and began to walk fretfully toward the door. "Oh – oh, my," he said quickly when Eomer looked at him strangely. "I didn't realize how late it was getting! I have so much to do before I have to be on the archery field and, well, no time like the present, right? Thanks for the words of comfort, and for the apple – I swear that I'll eat an extra large lunch today to make up for the small breakfast! Have a nice morning and all!"

He knew that after that little display Eomer would insist on having lunch with him just to make sure that he was back to normal; and he knew that by that time he would have to come up with a convincing explanation for his odd behavior; but before that any of that could happen Legolas needed to get a hold of himself. First things first; the elf made a beeline for the bathing chambers, surprising the servant in there with his unplanned visit. "I need to take a bath," he announced.

"Of course, master elf," said one of the flustered servants. "But we weren't expecting anyone to come in this morning. I'm afraid that the water will be quite cold."

Legolas nodded and headed for the nearest bathtub. "Perfect."

To be continued…


	25. Out of the doubt that fills my mind

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from "Collide" by Howie Day. Here are the relevant lyrics:_

_I'm quiet you know  
You make a first impression  
I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind _

**Chorus**: Even the best fall down sometimes  
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme  
Out of the doubt that fills my mind  
I somehow find  
You and I collide

Don't stop here  
I've lost my place  
I'm close behind

"You've gone too far this time, Eomer," said Legolas, shaking his head in amazement and horror.

The Man simply smiled like the cat that just caught and ate an elusive bird. "There is no such thing as too far today," he countered in a tempting purr. "Not after all of the turmoil, upheaval, and waiting of the last year. You must admit that you're excited too."

"You went to a lot of trouble, I'll grant you that," conceded Legolas as he squared his jaw stubbornly. He couldn't allow himself to give in to Eomer's persuasions, not when he could see all of the disasters that would come from it! "But there are boundaries that we dare not cross, not if we still hope to have a calm and normal life on the other side of today."

"Calm and normal don't seem to suit you all that well, Legolas," replied Eomer. "The elf who slid down the stairs of the Deeping Wall on a shield during battle and took on a mumakil all by himself is more the type to live for excitement. Come on, admit it: you're getting more and more enticed by it as we speak."

He tried to remain stern and strong but Legolas couldn't stop the smile that broke out across his face. He could feel his mind starting to surrender. "Maybe a _little_…"

"Ahem," the third person, who was standing right next to them, cleared his throat deliberately conspicuously. Legolas rolled his eyes and winked at Eomer, who let out a sigh as he knew what was coming. Together they looked over and down to see Gimli raising an eyebrow at them and crossing his arms. "Is this what that boy of yours keeps telling me about?"

"I'm sure that I don't know what you're talking about," said Legolas flippantly. "Really, Gimli; you might officially be Caladel's guest but that doesn't mean that Eomer and I have to tolerate your rudeness. Don't make me ruin my son's fifth birthday party by forcing me to have you escorted firmly from the premises for implying that our dear, sweet, innocent child would say anything behind our backs."

"It's nothing that he wouldn't also say to your faces," Gimli informed him. "You should hear him go on about it! I asked him about how you two were really getting along" –

"He's trying to turn our son into a spy, Eomer," interrupted Legolas, fake-whispering to the Man. Eomer, who still vividly remembered being threatened with an axe the last time he'd spoken tartly to the dwarf, wisely kept his mouth shut.

"A child needs to know that he can turn to someone other than his parents with any thought or concern that he has if he needs to!" Gimli defended himself. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I asked Caladel that and he started going on about how you two were always talking to each other as if you were fighting or something, even though you're really only just playing. I think he thinks that's odd, though I can't see why."

Eomer coughed to disguise his laughter. From what he observed, insults and fake arguing were the only way that Legolas and Gimli knew how to communicate most of the time; and he for one had never seen more devoted friends. Maybe they should have Caladel spend time around those two more often so that he could get a better understanding of it.

"And," announced Gimli, looking at Eomer sharply, "he also told me about that little _incident_ at the Solstice celebration – are you trying to take advantage of my friend here, Eomer?"

The Man forced another laugh to conceal his nervousness. "Actually, he kissed me."

"I did," confirmed Legolas, falsely solemn. "It was disgraceful."

"Don't try my patience now, little princeling," warned Gimli sternly, looking quite pleased with himself when Legolas genuinely glowered at him. "If you don't want me butting in on your business then don't do anything that I'd feel compelled to butt into."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Legolas dryly.

"Mind that you do," Gimli told me. His face brightened up. "Now, what is it that you two were just going on about? Does it have anything to do with the reason why we just left the kitchen and its unfortunate staff at the mercy of a group of four-and-five-year-olds who are under the influence of birthday cake?"

"No, no reason at all," replied Legolas with exaggerated innocence. "We just figured that it was better them than us."

Eomer smiled with delight and relief as he watched the elf and dwarf bicker good-naturedly. It was so refreshing to see Legolas acting like his usual self again! There hadn't been another episode like the morning of a few weeks earlier when Legolas had shown up extremely late for breakfast, obviously distressed and agitated – Eomer would have summoned the healers long ago had that odd mood persisted. Still, something had still been _off_ ever since. The prince had started taking cold baths at least two mornings a week (usually more) and had begun to act more…distracted. Eomer had caught him on more than one occasion staring off into space and whenever he'd gotten his attention Legolas had always seemed to have a hard time looking him in the eye. The king was beginning to worry that Legolas' old fears were returning, or that he was feeling guilty about something; but there seemed to be no sign of any of that on that day.

"Let me assure you, Master Dwarf," Eomer said, "that we are not simply abandoning our duties as parents and hosts. I was just slipping away for a moment to see if my surprise was ready and a certain someone followed me to get a peek."

"Eomer! Calling Gimli nosy to his face? I'm appalled," Legolas feigned dismay. Eomer gave him a Look and the elf turned incredulous. "Surely you weren't speaking about me? I just wanted to see what you've been going on about for weeks. I must say, when you first suggested it I thought that it couldn't happen; now that I've seen it I know that after today Caladel cannot help but become irreversibly spoiled."

"Is that right?" asked Gimli, curiosity breaking through his tone. "Let me have a look."

Legolas caught Eomer's eye and they grinned as they blocked the door. "It's a secret," they said in unison.

"I am that boy's honorary uncle/grandfather/very important relative!" protested Gimli indignantly. "I should be well-informed about this sort of thing!"

"If it will make you feel any better we can go get the birthday boy and his friends so that we can unveil the secret properly," offered Eomer.

"No need for that," observed Legolas as a low rumbling sound came to his ears. Elbereth, were the walls vibrating too? "I think I hear the pitter-patter of little feet stampeding our way right now."

Sure enough not one minute had passed before Caladel and a small group of his closest friends came bounding down the corridor to find them. Most of the children calmed down at the sight of their king and the elf prince, both of whom were figures held in much awe and respect in Rohan, but Caladel ran forward with a big smile on his face. "There you are!" declared the boy, a little too hyper. "I was wondering where you went and then I remembered my big secret that you've been hiding away in the festivities chamber! I haven't peeked at it once so the surprise hasn't been ruined."

"I believe you," said Eomer indulgently.

"You wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret if you had," added Legolas knowingly.

"Can I see it now?" begged Caladel. "I've been good! Please?"

Eomer pretended to think it over. "Well I _suppose_ that it's your birthday and all," he finally 'gave in'. Caladel's face instantly lit up in excitement. "Everyone gather around in front of the doors! Now Caladel, please tell us: if you could do anything on your birthday, what would it be?"

"Go swimming," answered Caladel politely but promptly. "But I can't because it's cold outside and the water's too icy."

The Man looked over at Legolas, who raised his eyebrows and nodded, and dramatically threw open the doors. A collective gasp rose when the boys – and even Gimli – saw what was in there. All of the tables and benches had been either removed or pushed against the walls to make room for the swimming pool that was sitting right there in the middle of the floor. It was wide enough to accommodate the number of children there and just deep enough to come up to the upper chest of someone roughly Caladel's height. The water had been preheated; and hot stones around the pool's base as well as small fire pits at strategic points all around the chamber kept its temperature reasonably warm.

The pool had been a nightmare to build and a constant trial to fill with water; but all of that work had been worth it just to see the look on Caladel's face. "Oh, Papa!" he gasped.

"I'm afraid that this is only for today," warned Eomer. "It'll have to come down tomorrow but your ada and I know how much you wanted to go swimming on your birthday and five is such a special year to celebrate."

"Thank you!" cried Caladel, ecstatic. "Thank you so much to both of you! Come on, everyone: let's go _swimming_!"

It was almost alarming to see how quickly the children stripped down to their undergarments and clamored to the small steps in order to climb in. The first splash in by Caladel got his best friend wet, which the other boy couldn't let happen without some retaliation. The full-scale monsoon that was the ensuing water fight had commenced before the last little boy had even gotten into the pool.

Eomer sighed as he heard the sound of water hitting the floor. "I'll go inform the servants to keep some replacement water ready for use," he said.

"We'll keep an eye on the wild ones while you're gone," Legolas reassured him. Eomer put a grateful hand on his arm and, with one last resigned glance at the boys, went off. The elf watched him go before he became aware that he too was being watched. "What?" he asked Gimli.

"Are you _blushing_?" demanded Gimli. "And what's that look in your eyes?"

"You're imagining things," scoffed Legolas, mentally reigning in his emotions. Knowing Gimli, if he ever learned about the elf's rapidly more confusing feelings for Eomer he'd try to interfere and end up complicating matters needlessly.

"That's not the sort of thing I'd imagine," commented Gimli.

"Let's just worry about what's going on in the pool right now," suggested Legolas pointedly. "Goodness, they're rambunctious, aren't they? Perhaps _you_ should join them, Gimli."

Gimli snorted. "Don't be a spoilsport," Legolas scolded him. "I know that those boys aren't little hairy women but they're all one of those things, at least."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

By nighttime all the commotion in Meduseld was either gone or else had died down. Caladel's guests' parents had come to retrieve their children after a lovely, if not _extremely _noisy feast; and by that time neither Legolas nor Eomer could say that they were unhappy to see them go. As for their son, it had taken a considerable amount of time for the sugar and excitement to leave his system, especially since Gimli would be staying with them and the boy was eager to speak with his pseudo uncle/grandfather in a way that he couldn't writing letters. But the Valar had at last merciful to the hapless parents and the sugar crash, combined with his exhaustion after a day of playing and swimming, finally had propelled Caladel into a deep sleep.

As Legolas, Eomer, and Gimli didn't feel up to carry on after the elfling lost his battle against sleep, they each retired for the night. After bidding the Man a fond goodnight Legolas carried Caladel back to their suite, nodding his thanks to Gimli for holding the door open for the two of them as he went inside. He briefly debated whether or not to change his son into his pajamas but decided against it, not wanting to disturb him unnecessarily; in fact, he didn't even bother to pull down the blankets on the boy's bed, opting instead to put Caladel down on top and covering him with a heavy quilt.

Caladel sighed in his sleep as he snuggled underneath the warmth. "Sweet dreams, my precious son," whispered Legolas, leaning down and kissing his cheek. The boy didn't stir; Legolas knew that he wouldn't be waking up until late the next morning. "I thank Elbereth every day for you, but on this day most of all. I love you."

Legolas stroked his child's hair and then left to go into his own bedchamber, shutting the dividing door behind him. He swiftly changed into his sleeping tunic and leggings, anticipating climbing into him warm and comfortable bed with considerable relief, when a thought suddenly came to him: he could go to the pool. He loved being in the water just as much as Caladel did but hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy the experience that afternoon with a group of overly-simulated five-year-olds in there too.

He wouldn't be in there for long; and anyway, Caladel was now at home in Meduseld so if he woke up to find his ada not there he would just go find someone else to help look for him. Resolved, Legolas grabbed his sleeping robe, threw it on hastily and tied it at the waist, listened for a moment for any sign of movement on his son's part, and when he didn't hear any headed out of the suite. "Guard," he called softly to the first guard he saw.

"Yes, Master Elf?" asked the guard.

"I'll be at the festivities hall for a short while," explained Legolas. He gestured toward his door. "Please send Caladel there, should he come looking for me."

"I'd be happy to," replied the guard with a kind smile. "Little scamp looked like he was all partied out, however. Did he have a nice birthday?"

"He did, thank you," Legolas smiled back, and with a nod went on his way down the dimly lit corridor to the hall where the pool and its water was practically calling for him.

It was sitting there waiting for him when he opened the hall's doors, all inviting with its calm water and just barely illuminated by the dying flames in the fire pits. Legolas shivered happily as he walked straight for it and skimmed his fingers against the surface. The water wasn't as warm as it had been before but that made little difference to him; as an elf he was aware when something was hot or cold but it never bothered him one way or the other, and even if it had he'd certainly taken enough cold baths in the past few weeks to be used to it by now. Nor was it deep enough to do any real swimming – having been made for young children to use – and for a moment he regretted that. Still, after so many months little bathtubs being the only time he was in any type of water it was going to feel so nice to be able to spread his limbs out again.

Quickly, Legolas made his way back to the doors and shut them into place – no need to put on a show for all of Meduseld, after all – and began to disrobe. Normally he preferred to swim completely naked; but while he wasn't ashamed of his body by any means he was still keenly aware that he was in a public place where in theory anyone could walk in on him and he didn't like the idea of being totally unclad in front of – well, anyone in the building. It was best to play it on the modest side in this situation so he shed all of his garments but left on his undergarment.

Then, with as much enthusiasm as his son displayed earlier he hopped into the pool and immediately rolled onto his back so that he could float. "Mmmmmmm," he hummed contentedly, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feeling of weightlessness that went along with becoming one with the water.

The position that he was in left his ears pretty much submerged; but even then the elf still had an acute sense of his surroundings. That was why he heard the sound of the door opening loud and (somewhat) clear a few minutes later. Slowly his eyes slid open but he did little more than just listen and keep in mind to be a little more alert. There was no point in jumping up, as there was no one in Edoras who would do anything to him. Legolas continued to listen as footsteps entered the chamber and paused for a moment or two before walking forward with more caution. There was nothing to fear; in fact, if his ears and intuition hadn't failed him, the elf even knew who this intruder was.

Soon enough a face appeared, confirming Legolas' suspicions. "Greetings," said Eomer, relaxing his frame a little when he saw both the identity of the nighttime swimmer and that said swimmer was all right. "I thought that I recognized your robe. What are you doing here?"

"Eomer," said Legolas, suddenly very conscious of how disrobed he really was. It was ridiculous – why should a few silly dreams make him feel uncomfortable being in front of the Man like this? The logical part of him argued that Eomer had seen him in about the same amount of clothes when they had gone swimming in one of the rivers in Eryn Lasgalan; but be that as it may he still sat up to provide some coverage for his body. "What brings you here so late?"

"I asked you first," Eomer reminded him, raising his eyebrows.

"Me?" asked Legolas. "I felt like going for a float. "And you?"

"I just wanted to come down and admire the pool one more time before it has to be drained and dismantled," replied Eomer forlornly, sliding his palm along the outside rim. "It took so long to plan, even longer to build properly, and don't get me started on what it took to fill it; and now it's going to be gone with nothing but our memories to prove it was there in the first place."

Legolas choked a little on a snort. "We could always erect a monument," he suggested cheekily. Eomer rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, cheer up, Eomer! Considering how much Caladel enjoyed it today you'll probably be building one next year."

"Next year? You mean that he has one of these birthday-things every year?" joked Eomer. "Valar, I don't think I'll have recovered from today by next year." Absentmindedly he flittered his fingers in the water; and almost immediately jerked his hands back and shivered. "Cold – cold – my goodness, Legolas, how can you stand being in that cold?"

"The water's not _cold_, it's _cool_," stressed Legolas, moving his arms around a bit right under the surface. "Although I can understand how you would blend those two temperatures together in your mind, given your – how should I put this? – delicate constitution."

"There's nothing delicate about me," protested Eomer, squaring his shoulders a little to strike a dignified pose. "The problem, simply put, is that you are strange."

"What a load of orc carcasses," scoffed Legolas. "There's nothing wrong with me. You just need to get used to the temperature, that's all."

Eomer had a really clever retort on the tip of his tongue but it was lost when a small splash unexpectedly hit him in the face. Maintaining his dignified body language – a feat that made Legolas duly impressed – the Man wiped the droplets away from his eyes with one hand while pressing his lips together and blowing. He looked at Legolas, let out a feigned disappointed sigh, and shook his head. "How unfortunate," he noted. "We were having such a nice conversation and now it's come to this."

Legolas watched him closely while trying to back up slowly to the other side of the pool. "Don't think for one second that I can let you get away with that," Eomer went on, watching his friend and secret love trying to sneak off unnoticed. He deftly untied his robe below the pool's edge (and thus out of Legolas' sight); then in one rapid motion the Man threw the garment off and leapt into the water. He ignored the freeze that seemed to penetrate down to his bones as he sent a retaliating splash the elf's way.

Legolas immediately paddled back to him at such speed that Eomer fell back in surprise and ended up sitting in that cold, cold water. "You do realize that this is war, right?" taunted the prince as he took revenge with another splash.

They grinned mischievously at each other and the battle was on. Eomer ventured closer and started slapping the water up into the elf's face. Legolas quickly responded, moving onto his back with his hands against the bottom of the pool, supporting his weight as he began to hit the water in small kicks, sending it all into the Man's face. Not about to just sit there and take it Eomer grabbed his ankles and pushed his legs down until he was in a sitting position again.

At that point they stopped and stared at each other before chuckling simultaneously. "This is absurd," stated Eomer.

"We're _adults_," concurred Legolas. "We're _parents_ at that."

A beat more of silence and stillness followed and then a full-scale water fight began. They no longer took turns attacking, choosing instead to splash first and care about where it all landed later. Water flew everywhere, hitting the floor in small waves and cascading all over the duo until both Legolas and Eomer were thoroughly drenched and having a wonderful time.

"That's it!" declared Legolas grandly when they paused momentarily to let their arms rest and catch their breath. "I'm ending this now – you're going under!"

He launched himself at Eomer until their bodies were almost touching and started pushing down on his shoulders. "You sneak!" cried Eomer, wrestling the elf a little to make him think that he was trying to throw him off. Legolas didn't realize until it was too late that the Man had in fact managed to snake both arms around his waist. "Well, if I'm going down I'm just going to have to take you with me!"

Neither of them would ever be able to explain clearly how what happened next actually started happening. One moment Legolas was pushing down and Eomer was pulling down; the next something inside of both of them made them stop and look into each other's faces, which had gotten very close in all of their struggles. A split second after that their mouths had found one each other, locking together in a passionate and hungry kiss. Legolas' hands slid across Eomer's shoulders, caressed up his neck, and grasped either one of the Man's cheeks as if he was afraid that he was going to pull away all of the sudden. Eomer loosened his hold on the elf's waist and let his hands travel upwards to stroke Legolas' naked back and urge his body closer until they were completely pressed together.

Legolas was practically (all right, _literally_) sitting on Eomer's lap now, moaning in the back of his throat as the king explored the inside of his mouth with his tongue. One hand left Eomer's face and fell back to fist the Man's long locks, begging him with his body language not to stop. All the reasons that they'd been telling themselves why something like this couldn't, wouldn't, and shouldn't happen left both of their minds as the elf's tongue became more aggressive and dueled playfully with Eomer's. This was part of what they'd been fantasizing about; but it was better than any dream or daydream because it was, well…_real_.

"Young Master Elf, I suggest – oh!" Legolas and Eomer broke apart hastily as one of the guards assigned to patrol that public portion of Meduseld entered the festivities chamber. The poor Man's face was beet-red and both prince and king knew that they hadn't separated fast enough – he'd obviously seen everything. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"This" – sputtered Eomer, but said nothing more when his mental groping failed to find the proper words. How could he explain what was just happening when he couldn't explain it himself?

"This is none of my business," the guard supplied for him. "I apologize from the core of my being, King Eomer, Prince Legolas! It's just that I saw the door was opened and I heard someone moving around in the water – oh," he moaned, mortified, as his face flushed even redder. "I thought that Lord Caladel had snuck down here for one final swim. I see now that I was wrong. I'll…I'm sure that there's _somewhere_ that I should be so I'll just leave you two to, um, go about your business. I'm sorry to interrupt," he added.

Legolas stood up as the embarrassed guard practically ran out of the chamber. That interruption had done more to douse his fiery attraction than all the cold baths in Meduseld – would that it had come before anything had happened in the first place! What had he done? Could he not control himself at all? Eomer was either going to discover his attraction now or else just think that he was promiscuous enough to seek physical gratification from the closest not-unwilling body. The Man would be too polite and kind to mention it, of course, but he was going to feel awkward around him all the same. That brought the number of friends that Legolas had lost when he let romantic/sexual feelings get in the way up to two.

"I'd better get back to Caladel," said the elf quietly as he stepped out of the pool.

"And I should get some sleep before I have to work tomorrow," said Eomer, following him. He picked up his robe but found that it was completely soaked – no point in putting _that_ on so he wadded it up and let it drop back to the floor.

The Man's mind was full of elation that was marred by regret as Legolas donned his own dry robe and they both headed for the door. How could he have let one opportunity for some temporary satisfaction ruin the months that he'd spent building up a trust and deep friendship with Legolas? He'd vowed to himself not to make the elf think for a moment that he was only being nice to him because he expected some sort of _payment_ in return and now…now the person that he'd been in love with for over five years was going to believe that he was only using him to sate his own physical desires. With shame he recalled the suspicious looks that some of the elves of Eryn Lasgalan had given him when he first showed up in their realm with Legolas and Caladel. He'd eventually earned most of their trusts; it was an awful feeling to know that he'd just proved himself unworthy of it.

The walk back to the royal quarters was beyond awkward. They walked side-by-side but didn't speak once; Legolas chose to instead busy his hands and mind by anxiously squeezing the sleeping garments that he was holding (having not wanted to take the time to put them back on after what had happened) and Eomer stared resolutely down the darkened corridor. It occurred to both of them to try to come up with an excuse to not have to walk the rest of the way in each other's company: Eomer thought longingly of the robe he'd left behind and Legolas strained his ears in the hopes of hearing Caladel coming to look for him. But they quickly dismissed that possibility – there just didn't seem to be a way that it could be done without making the situation even worse.

The tension from all the words that they weren't saying hung heavily around them in the air. Eomer looked at Legolas once only to turn away when he saw the elf biting his lips and gripping his clothing until his knuckles were white. Of course Legolas was upset, Eomer internally smacked himself – he had just violated all of the trust that the elf had in him. A second later Legolas turned to Eomer and was disheartened when he observed how the Man was deliberately avoiding looking at him. He shouldn't have been surprised; Eomer was probably disgusted at the sight of him.

Finally by the mercy of the Valar they reached Eomer's bedchamber door. "Well," stammered the king.

There were very few times in his life when Legolas had felt more miserable and ashamed than he did at that moment. "Eomer, about what just happened…"

"Don't worry about it," said Eomer, trying to make his tone come across as light and carefree and failing terribly. It was that voice that made the elf really look at him: in his expression there seemed to be…sadness? Wistfulness? What did that mean? "I understand. You got caught up in the moment. It happens to the best of us; please don't worry about it anymore. Have a good night, Legolas."

"Goodnight," echoed Legolas, a bit confused. He took a few steps away but then halted. It had felt so good being with Eomer like that, having those several blissful moments where he didn't deny how he felt about him. Months earlier, when he was trying to explain to himself why he felt so at home in Edoras, Legolas had decided that he didn't like being in transition and was happy to have a place to settle down in but that wasn't the entire truth. The truth was that he hated running from anything, be it an enemy, the past, or his own emotions. The realization was almost blinding: he was so _sick_ of running away fromt he way that he felt about Eomer!

Now that fear was threatening the honesty and easy-going nature of his relationship with Eomer and that wouldn't do. No matter what the consequences were, he couldn't leave things like this between them – or live like that anymore. "Eomer, wait," he called out.

Eomer was about to step inside when the elf's voice stopped him in his tracks. "What is it?" he asked nervously.

Legolas walked back to him. "What just happened – I didn't – it wasn't – oh, bother!" He threw his hands up in the air, let one of them fall gently to the juncture between the Man's neck and shoulder, and leaned forward to plant another, much more chaste kiss on his lips.

It was both the longest and the shortest moment of Eomer's life. This couldn't be real; Legolas wasn't really kissing him when he had no reason to and every reason not to, was he? The confusion and fear stopped him from even trying to return the kiss in any manner. That was something that he instantly regretted when Legolas pulled back and he could see the crestfallen expression that the prince was so desperately trying to hide.

"You don't," Legolas began to explain. He looked down for a second and then up again to start over. "It wasn't that I got caught up in the moment. That implies that something like that would have happened no matter who else was in the pool with me and…and I wouldn't have kissed anyone but you. I've been feeling…you're one of the best friends that I've ever had, Eomer and I don't want to lose you but what I've been feeling about you lately – you don't feel about someone that's just a friend what I've been feeling for you."

"Legolas," breathed Eomer, scarcely daring to hope.

"Let me finish, please," pleaded Legolas, mistaking Eomer's tone and believing that he was trying to be gentlemanly by cutting him off before he said something embarrassing. Taking a deep breath the elf went on. "Those dreams that I've been having so often lately, they've all been about you – and none of them were nightmares." His cheeks turned crimson as he wondered if he'd revealed too much. "Please understand that I'm only telling you this to clear the air between us. We can go back to the way it was before now; I don't want you to feel obliged" –

He couldn't finish his sentence, however; for while he was speaking it finally sunk into Eomer's mind that there was a good chance that his wildest dreams were coming true before his eyes. He'd tenderly reached around to the back of Legolas' head and pulled the elf into a word-robbing kiss. "Feel obliged to what?" asked Eomer shakily when their lips parted. "Return your feelings? Legolas, do you know how long I've felt that same way" – he traced his fingertips on the prince's cheek and chin –"held in those same emotions…dreamed those same dreams?"

"Since – since Solstice?" guessed Legolas, taken off-guard slightly at Eomer's confession. For so long he'd either been very reserved or a complete mess – how could this solid, wonderful Man feel something for him beyond friendship when he was like that?

"Since the last time you stayed in Edoras, after my uncle's funeral procession," corrected Eomer, reaching down for Legolas' hand and bringing it to his lips.

"That long?" Legolas was amazed. "But you never once…"

"I knew that you needed time to heal," explained Eomer. "Whatever happens between us, Legolas, I want it to be genuine and long-lasting; if I'd have mentioned anything earlier we might have never became friends or else we might have had a sort of relationship before you were ready that died too soon. You're worth waiting for something more special and substantial."

"I'm glad that you waited," Legolas told him, a beautiful smile lighting up his fair face. "And I'm very gland that you're still here now – now that I'm ready."

The pair – the couple – moved together to kiss once more; not like the chaste kisses they'd just given each other to prove their points, nor like the sloppier, raw smooch in the pool. This was filled with passion, but a more concentrated one that was confident rather than desperate. Where this relationship would lead them was still a big unknown but at the moment they finally knew how the other felt. And for now that was all that Legolas and Eomer needed.

To be continued…

_A/N:I know it's pretty unrealistic that Eomer could have had an actual pool built inside with enough water to fill it and everything; but I was so attached both to the idea of them getting together on Caladel's birthday and to the image of that kiss in the water that a little literary liscence was called for! _:)

_Some reviewers (or the same reviewer – I can't tell) have been requesting that I elaborate more on Caladel's birth. I **am** going to do that at some point in the story; I know when it's going to happen, but it's not going to be for awhile. Be assured that your curiosity will be satisfied eventually!_


	26. The morning after

The next morning Legolas awoke with a song in his heart and a pounding in his ears. It took him several seconds to shake off his drowsiness enough so that he could identify the reasons for both. The source of the song was the easiest one for him to sort out, as he'd been dreaming about it since he'd fallen asleep the night before: Eomer. Taking a chance and kissing Eomer, having Eomer kiss him back, listening in elated disbelief as Eomer told him that he'd cared about him since before Caladel was born; the feeling of joy and desire as his mouth met Eomer's once more, over and over again as they went together into Eomer's bedchamber…. Legolas smiled lazily but contentedly, still half-asleep, for of all the Men in Middle-earth he had been lucky enough to somehow capture the affection of the best of them.

To think, he'd spent weeks trying to convince himself that there was no reason to tell Eomer how he felt because there was _no way_ that the Man returned those feelings! Legolas would have laughed at himself out loud if that much activity hadn't required him to be a little more conscious. Weeks of nights filled with inadequate satisfaction and growing frustration; days of denials and cold baths to fight back the desire and he refused to acknowledge even to himself; every moment when his heart broke a little as he told himself that Eomer could never care about him beyond the affections of a friend – in the course of five minutes or less he'd let himself forget about all of that. What's more, now he knew that he was better off for it.

Eomer cared for him in a more-than-friendly way. Eomer had the same dreams that he did about the two of them being together. Eomer had _kissed _him: kisses that still made Legolas grin foolishly every time that the thought about them, full of sweetness and passion. They made him feel like he was cherished while bringing to the surface the desires that he'd been repressing. Legolas hadn't felt this way about anyone in almost six years; more importantly, for the first time in that long he _wanted_ to feel that way about someone.

It felt as if he was getting second chance; another shot at having complete happiness and a healthy, supportive relationship with someone that he trusted totally. Not everyone got even their first chance and here he was, fortunate and blessed with a second. Of course, he would have preferred it if this opportunity had come earlier – almost six years ago when he found out that he was pregnant, or a few weeks ago before he wasted so much time and energy denying everything – but now Legolas was nothing but grateful. He'd never been one to take the easy route when it came to the important things in life, anyway. That just made finally getting to this place in his life more fulfilling; he couldn't wait to put aside the darkness of the last few years and enjoy being happy again at last.

It took him a few more seconds to discern where the pounding was coming from; not from any special place inside of him, but from the other side of the door. Legolas' heart leapt for a moment, thinking that his visitor was Eomer. Then he realized that, first of all, Eomer probably wouldn't be knocking on his doors so early after they'd both had such a long light; and, secondly, if he had found some reason to do so most likely he wouldn't be doing it in such an – _annoyed_ – fashion. After all, he had no cause to be annoyed.

The pounding increased, loud and insistent, and Legolas grew worried that it would wake Caladel soon if he didn't put a stop to it. "Yes, who is it?" he called, sleep still clinging to his voice.

"Blast you, you confounded elf!" Gimli's voice yelled back at him. Yes, Legolas could tell instantly that the dwarf was peeved about something. But it couldn't be at him, right? After all, he'd only just woken up! "Open this door right now if you know what's good for you!"

"You woke me up," Legolas called back accusingly. "Come back when it's time for breakfast."

Gimli snorted irritably. "That time has come and gone," he informed him in an exasperated tone. "Do you have any idea how late it is? Now open this door so I don't end up disturbing everyone else – you know, the people who actually dragged their lazy bones out of bed at a decent hour?"

"All right, all right, I'm coming," groused Legolas, knowing full well that the dwarf's consideration for others wouldn't be enough to stop him from yelling a good scolding from across a mountain range if he felt that Legolas needed one bad enough. He pulled back the covers and stumbled out of bed, crinkling his nose a little in bewilderment when he noticed how much colder the air outside of his bed felt compared to the warmth under his blankets. Shrugging it off, he walked toward the door and then stopped short when he finally processed the reason for that: he was completely nude. The previous night he'd been so tired when he finally returned to his bedchamber that he hadn't bothered changing into his sleeping clothes; he'd just shed his robe and still-damp undergarment and hopped into bed.

Really, it was nothing that Gimli hadn't seen before during the War at the few times that the Fellowship had been able to take the time to bathe. Then again, Legolas had the big announcement about him and Eomer starting a relationship to make to him and he wasn't sure how the overprotective dwarf was going to take the news. Perhaps it was best not to stress Gimli's sensibilities right now.

Ruefully the elf slipped on his robe, tied it securely shut, and made his way over to the door, opening it and peering down at his friend. "Good" – he yawned loudly – "Good morning, Gimli."

"Aüle," Gimli rolled his eyes as he took in Legolas' present state. "What do you think you're doing, staying in bed so late? It's mid-morning already! What's the big idea, making your guest wait for breakfast when he's so hungry?"

"You didn't have to wait for me to eat," countered Legolas. "Besides, officially you're _Caladel's_ guest and you'll be waiting for quite awhile yet before he wakes up. And as for your first question, I had a late night last night – come in," he added as he stepped aside and gestured for Gimli to enter, not particularly wanting to have the upcoming conversation in the corridor.

"You went to bed the same time that I did," argued Gimli as he walked into the bedchamber. "So don't go giving me that excuse."

Legolas did a cursory check for any guards or servants before he shut the door. Not that any of them would knowingly eavesdrop on what was clearly a private conversation; but he still didn't want to try anyone's ability to not spread rumors by having them accidentally overhear when he was about to tell Gimli. "No, I didn't," he explained to the dwarf. "I only put Caladel to bed. After that I went back to the festivities chamber; I wanted the chance to enjoy the pool when there wasn't a group of screaming children in it."

"Now I see where that boy of yours gets it from," Gimli shook his head. He would never understand his elvish friend's strange love for being in the open water; and the boy was just as bad, if not worse. "You've both got so much water in your heads that you think nothing about starving your poor guest!"

"Go down to the dining hall and eat if you're so hungry," Legolas told him, getting annoyed in his turn that Gimli could only seemingly think of his stomach when he had such exciting news to tell. "I'm sure that the kitchen staff can find it in their hearts to scrounge up some scraps so that you don't waste away into nothing."

"I like eating with people," protested Gimli firmly. "And that goes double at the times when I'm visiting friends that I haven't been able to spend enough time with lately, and his son. Gracious, even Eomer is still in bed at this late hour and you _know_ how much he likes getting a jump on the day. Maybe all of this laziness is catching."

"He's allowed to be tired every once in awhile," said Legolas, surprising himself with how defensive he unexpectedly felt. He knew that Gimli didn't mean it as an insult but that didn't mean that he had to like that the dwarf had said something less-than-flattering about Eomer. "He ended up going down to the pool last night too; and then afterward we ended up talking for a bit…"

There was a catch in the elf's voice that made Gimli realize that he needed to temporarily put aside his rumbling stomach until he got to the bottom of it. Crossing his arms, he looked at his friend hard. "About what?" he asked suspiciously. Legolas bit his lip and smiled. "All right, enough of that now! I can plainly see that you're itching to get something off of your chest – out with it!"

"Before I say anything," said Legolas, "I want you to make me a promise that you won't get all worked up until after I tell you everything. All right, Gimli?"

Gimli fell back into a chair. "Something tells me that I'll want to be sitting down for this," he sighed. "Well? I'm waiting – don't keep me in suspense."

"Eomer and I – last night we kissed each other in the pool," confided Legolas in a low voice. Gimli cocked his head at him but otherwise kept his expression unreadable. "And then we kissed a few more times in the corridor outside of his bedchamber; and in his bedchamber" –

"I'll go get my axe," interrupted Gimli in a tight voice, his knuckles turning painfully white as his grip on the chair's arms became like iron.

"It wasn't like that!" Legolas told him in an exasperated tone. "We just needed somewhere private to talk and his bedchamber happened to be the closest place. I can learn from the past, you know. I am fully aware that jumping into bed almost immediately after you and a friend have decided to be more than just friends is a good way to lose a friendship, not to mention five years of your life to exile in Fangorn. We didn't do anything but talk and kiss a little." Gimli gave him a pointed Look. "All right, a lot – but that was it!"

The dwarf relaxed slightly. "And what did you two talk about when you came up for air?" he pressed.

"About us," replied Legolas, sitting down heavily on the bed across from Gimli's chair. "About how we wanted our relationship to change; and about how such a change might affect both us and Caladel. It wasn't just him trying to get physical for one night – he told me that he thinks that it's worth taking a chance if it means that we can be together. He wants for us to have a real relationship, Gimli."

"He'd better," growled the dwarf. His expression turned from menacing to serious as he took a good look at the elf. "But what do you want? I don't want you to think about Caladel or Eomer; or anyone or anything else when you answer. This question isn't about anything else: what does _Legolas_ want for _himself_?"

"I want to be happy and I want to be with Eomer," answered Legolas with conviction. "I know what you're worried about – you think that I'm just grateful for everything that he's done for me and Caladel, and that what I'm feeling is obligation not to turn him down; but that's _not true_. I've been having some rather…potent romantic feelings for him lately; I'm just fortunate enough that he returns them."

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," scoffed Gimli dismissively. "He's been looking at you with those lovelorn eyes for quite a long time. You've just been so wrapped up with how – how things with…" he glanced at Caladel's closed door – "you know who I'm talking about…"

Legolas tensed. "_He _has nothing to do with this," he said a little too harshly. Of course Gimli meant well, but why did he have to bring up Aragorn now?

"I know that," the dwarf told him. "I was just pointing out that you've been so preoccupied with how things ended between the two of you that you couldn't see that _he_ wasn't going to be the only person in your lifetime who would want you."

He paused for a second as if contemplating if he should ask the question that had just occurred to him. He could have spared himself – and Legolas – the internal debate, as no question that popped into Gimli son of Gloin's mind didn't end up popping out of his mouth as well. "Do you love him?"

"That means so many things," remarked Legolas uncomfortably. He crossed his arms over his chest as if he were attempting to hide himself and protect his heart. "I love him as a friend and would be devastated to lose that part of my relationship with him. I love him as Caladel's other father and couldn't imagine anyone else doing a better job with that. I care about him deeply and want that part of our relationship to progress and deepen, but am I _in_ love with him? No. I mean, I could be one day and perhaps I will be; but I'm just – not there yet."

"And there's no rush for you to get there before you're ready," advised Gimli protectively. He knew that the Man was probably in love with his friend, but Eomer had waited for so long already that Gimli couldn't see the harm in making him wait for a while longer. "Make sure that you know for certain that you are before you say something. You can't unsay those words once they've been spoken."

"Honestly, Gimli, I'm not even to the point that I'm worried about that part of it yet. I'm too busy mulling over how we're going to tell Caladel, and the people of Rohan…and my father."

"I don't think that you'll have anything to worry about there," Gimli reassured him. "First of all, I can't see why Caladel wouldn't be anything but thrilled that his parents have decided to become a couple, seeing that most people actually decide to become that first before they become parents. As for the Rohirrim, odds are that a good deal of them have assumed that you two are already an item. They might not be entirely happy that their king has overlooked all of the local girls and chosen a male elf; but they love you and you've already proven that you can bear children. Truth be told, I don't think that Eomer has been this interested in having a romance in his life - they'll most likely simply be relieved that they're that much closer to having a legitimate blood heir to the throne."

"I guess all of that is true," conceded Legolas reluctantly as his face blanched a little. He hated getting his hopes up that everything was going to be as easy as that; and what's more Gimli had touched on what was still a looming potential problem. "But as for Ada…"

Gimli grimaced distastefully. "The Elvenking?" he asked, running the two words together like his own father and the rest of Thorin's company did. It was _not_ a term of respect or endearment. "What, does he not approve of Eomer or something? I've heard that he has a hard time getting along" –

"Enough," Legolas cut him off wearily. "Don't let your head get all big, but I love you both and I'm sick of being in between your insults. You two met _once_, for Elbereth's sake! That's not long enough to build up a lasting feud that doesn't need the mistakes of the past to survive. I'm not asking you to like each other; just – I don't know – if you have something to say that isn't nice or polite then don't say it to me."

"Fine, fine; if it means that much to you, fine," agreed Gimli, though it sounded more like he was complaining. "I'll let the insults eat away at my insides while you tell me why you don't want to tell him."

Legolas blushed slightly. "It, uh…it would make him too happy," he mumbled sheepishly.

The dwarf let loose a gigantic guffaw. "I love that!" he exclaimed between stomach-hurting laughs.

"I'm serious!" protested Legolas crossly. "Ada's been both hinting and flat-out telling me that he thinks that it's in my best interest to _marry_ Eomer. It's getting harder to hide that from Eomer too – you should have seen what Ada sent me for Solstice! Thank Elbereth I was lucky enough to realize what it was before I opened it in front of Eomer and Caladel both and got stuck trying to explain what it was for. I don't think he's made his wishes known to Eomer; but if he finds out that we're in a relationship…"

"You could always get married," Gimli couldn't resist teasing him. "Instead of doing everything in order, you can do it all backwards: Child first, then marriage, and then you can fall in love."

"Ha-ha, you're _so_ funny," snapped Legolas sarcastically. "That's not helpful, Gimli!"

Gimli wiped his eyes and attempted to control his chuckles. "I'm sorry, laddie," he said, sobering up a little. "If you want something helpful, here's some advice: while there's very little I like doing less than adding to your father's happiness, you have to tell him. Caladel probably will anyway and you don't want the Elvenking thinking that you and Eomer are hiding something shameful. Besides, I thought that you didn't want to be in a relationship that you had to keep a secret."

"That's true," nodded Legolas, still looking a bit apprehensive. "But what if he" –

"Nip that in the bud," advised Gimli in a conspiratorial voice. "Write to him about you and Eomer and tell him plainly that you aren't thinking about marriage. Let him know that any pressure – well-intentioned or otherwise – on the matter that is applied to either of you – or Caladel – will only make you think about marriage even less until you are living under the same roof with your romantic partner without the benefit of binding vows in perpetuity. He'll back off just to hasten your way into married life."

"That could work," marveled Legolas. His expression softened and he smiled at his friend. "I'm glad that you're here, Gimli."

The dwarf sighed resignedly, got up, and gave Legolas a hug. "Me too," he said. "I lose sleep some nights worrying about you and the decisions you make. Speaking of which, I need to get my axe."

"Don't threaten Eomer with your axe, Gimli."

"No threatening," Gimli promised him. "I might _happen_ to be sharpening it when I have a little chat with him about what he expects to get out of your relationship but I won't _threaten_."

"Gimli," said Legolas warningly. "That's not necessary. I know what I'm doing."

"I know that," reassured Gimli. He looked at the elf thoughtfully. "But someone's got to look out for you. I don't think you've learned to do that for yourself properly yet."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"I can't believe that I slept so late," announced Caladel, dramatically stretching his arms and yawning as he walked into the dining hall. He was feeling very grown-up at the moment; not only was he finally five-years-old and had gotten to say the same thing that his ada and papa always said when they stayed in bed longer than usual but also he had gotten himself ready for the day. Legolas and Eomer hadn't been anywhere in the royal quarters when he'd woken up and the boy had just assumed that they had decided that he was old enough and responsible enough to make sure that he looked presentable.

Actually Legolas and Eomer had come to the dining hall early, having been too worried about how to explain their new situation to their son to give a thought to how Caladel was going to look that day; now, judging by the state that the boy was in, both of them could see that it would be awhile yet before he would no longer need their help in that respect. The front of his hair had been neatly brushed but there was little doubt that the comb had never touched the back of it and the elfling had chosen to wear a tunic that needed a good…throwing out. Still, Caladel had no lessons that day so neither Legolas nor Eomer were all that concerned with his appearance.

"Greetings, ion nin," said Legolas warmly, succeeding for the most part in hiding his amusement. Eomer echoed the sentiment. "I _can_ believe it; what I can't believe is that you managed to wake up this _early_. I thought that we'd have to tickle you awake for supper tonight."

"Oh, I'm glad you didn't have to do that," said Caladel earnestly, for he didn't much care for being tickled. "But you just said 'greetings' instead of 'good morning' – does that mean it's not morning anymore? And where's Gimli?"

"One question at a time," laughed Eomer, holding up his hand to jokingly ward off any more. "First of all, it _is_ still morning, but just barely. Your ada and I were actually thinking about telling the kitchen staff what we want for lunch. Do you want to wait another half-hour or so, or are you too hungry for that? You may order an early lunch; and it can be of all breakfasts foods too, if you wish."

"I don't think I can wait," replied Caladel, clutching his stomach as it growled loudly at the promise of food. "And it would be very nice if it was breakfast food – it's very strange to eat something other than that right after you wake up, don't you think?"

Legolas glanced over at a servant that was hovering around the doors that led into the kitchen. She nodded to let him know that she'd heard the elfling's request and headed off to inform the cook. "I'm sure that your food will be ready shortly," he told Caladel as he patted the spot on the bench next to him. "Take a seat."

Caladel obeyed, looking across the table to smile at his papa before turning back to Legolas. "Thank you," he said politely. "Now where's Gimli? Is he coming in a few minutes?"

"He's actually going to be eating lunch with some of the soldiers today," said Legolas carefully, not wanting to reveal too much too soon. "Gimli rarely has the chance to catch up with the other people that he met here during the War; and he wanted to give the three of us some time alone together."

"Why do we need that?" asked Caladel with a confused frown. "The three of us spend time alone together almost every day – we hardly ever get to see him." He suddenly looked very upset as he thought of a reason why the dwarf would think that they needed privacy. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"No," Eomer assured him with a shake of his head. The Man rose from his spot and came around to the other side of the table. He briefly considered sitting down on the other side of his son but decided against it, not wanting to make the boy feel trapped if their news ended up upsetting him. Instead he settled down next to Legolas; perhaps actually seeing them side-by-side would help Caladel understand their new relationship better. "Your ada and I just have something that we want to talk to you about."

Caladel eyed them nervously. He didn't know what to make of the situation – the only other time that his parents had acted anything like this was when they told him that Eomer wanted to be his papa, so whatever they wanted to talk about now could be good; but then again he could only imagine that nothing but bad news would make Gimli stay away from eating with them. "Is it something bad?" he wondered.

"We don't think so," smiled Legolas reassuringly. It was probably best to simply be honest, so he took a steeling breath and plunged ahead. "It's just that your papa and I…we're together now."

"I know," said Caladel plainly. Honestly, adults made so little sense at times! "I saw him walk around and sit next to you."

"No," protested Legolas automatically. "Well, yes he is right here; but that's not what I meant. He and I want to spend more time together."

"You already spend a lot of time together," countered Caladel logically. "Why is Gimli staying away just so you can tell me that?"

This was going to be harder than either of them had thought, and for a completely different reason. "It's going to be a different kind of together," Eomer tried to explain. He hadn't realized before just how much he and Legolas had acted like a couple before they revealed their feelings to each other. Now wonder Caladel was having such a hard time grasping the notion that something had changed between them. "Before, we were friends" –

"You're not going to be friends anymore?" cried Caladel in alarm.

"Yes – yes, of course we're still gong to be friends," said Eomer quickly. "No matter what happens we always want to be friends. But there are different types of friends, Caladel. We, well, we…"

"Eomer and I want to be something more than just friends, little one," broke in Legolas. They should have learned their lesson before – being direct and complete was best when explaining a complicated concept to their son. "Nothing will change about your life – all three of us will still live in Meduseld, your papa and I will still get along and like each other, and we all will still be a family. Eomer and I have simply decided that we want to do…romantic stuff together." He looked back at the Man and smiled affectionately as their eyes locked. Ever so slowly Legolas reached for his hand, laced their fingers together, and brought it to his chest so that Caladel could see what they were doing. "We're going to be holding hands" –

"Oh, and kissing?" interrupted Caladel, catching on. A huge grin broke out across his face when his parents nodded. "That's wonderful! First for the Solstice-Yule holiday and now for my birthday! Can you two kiss right now?"

The child was nothing if not full of surprises. "I beg your pardon?" asked Eomer, laughing a little only because he couldn't think of a more appropriate response to the unexpected request.

"You want to – you both do – I can see it," said Caladel, practically bouncing in his seat with glee. "I know that look; you've been giving it to each other for a long time now. Some of my friends' parents look at each other like that too; only they kiss when they do that and you two haven't been. Well, you did once before at the party; have you done it more times now?"

"Yes," answered Legolas, blunt in his surprise.

"I should have known!" exclaimed Caladel. "The two of you look so happy. I _told_ Alfmund that that you would be so much happier if you just kissed each other whenever you wanted to!" He was so thrilled that he didn't notice Legolas' eyes widen or Eomer's cheeks turn slightly red. "Now that you know too, are you going to do it?"

Eomer winked and smiled secretively. "That sounds like a good plan to me," he declared. With his free hand he cupped one of Legolas' cheeks, caressing it with his thumb. The elf responded by reaching out to touch the Man's face before they both leaned into a mindfully chaste kiss on the lips.

If it was possible Caladel looked even more delighted when he saw them kiss than he did when he first laid eyes on the swimming pool. "I can't wait to tell everybody!" he declared loudly. He bit his lower lip as the couple broke apart and looked at them subdued. "Uh, I can do that, right? This isn't going to be a secret, is it?"

"Not from anyone in Rohan," said Legolas firmly. He supposed that he should have discussed the issue with Eomer before answering their son so resolutely but no matter what he knew that he couldn't have it any other way. He wasn't about to become anyone's dirty little secret.

"We'll have to ask you to hold your tongue until tomorrow," amended Eomer. He saw hurt creep into Legolas' expression and squeezed his hand lovingly. "I'm going to have to officially tell the nobles about our relationship; and for their peace of minds and my poor eardrums and wits it's going to have to be before this is known to the general public. I promise that after breakfast tomorrow you can tell anyone you want, my son."

"That's great," said Caladel, enthused. "I'll have to tell all of my friends, of course; and Alfmund; oh, and the guards too! They've been spending so much time rooting you two on; I've heard more than one guard saying stuff like 'kiss him already!' when they've watched you and now you're going to! Oh, food!" he added, distracted by a servant carrying in a tray.

Legolas and Eomer watched Caladel as he thanked the servant brightly and started eating. "Apparently we've been causing quite a bit of gossip," noted Eomer in a quieter voice as he turned back to the elf, not wanting to disturb the boy's meal with more chit-chat.

"I only wish that our son and the guards would have told us about how obvious it was that we wanted to kiss each other – we could have started doing it a lot sooner," joked Legolas. His face became serious. "I forgot that you would need to make an official announcement to the nobility."

"It's nothing too dire," said Eomer. "They just need to know who might be having more influence over my life; they'll want the chance to _approve_ of the king's new relationship, but I happen to know that not only do they like you but also that the king will prove to be quite defiant if they try to stir up any trouble."

"Oh, really?" asked Legolas playfully. "That's really a shame – I don't know if I can be involved with a king who's known to reject any advice that he doesn't like. My father wouldn't approve."

"Your father seems to be the type who's defied more than a few nobles in his lifetime," countered Eomer. Legolas shrugged his shoulders and looked up; the Man took advantage of the position of his head to kiss the bottom of his jaw where it met his neck. "Have dinner with me."

Legolas cocked an eyebrow at him as Eomer rested their foreheads together. "You don't have to ask me," he said. "That's what I usually do."

"No, not like that," insisted Eomer. "I mean like a just-the-two-of-us meal complete with candlelight, many romantic gestures, and a fantastic meal; something that I've taken weeks to plan because I don't want to mess things up before I have the chance to properly court you."

"You wish to woo me," nodded Legolas in understanding. He kissed the tip of Eomer's nose. "Would it be too forward of me to inform you that such a thing is a little unnecessary at this point?"

"Our situation is less than…traditional," granted Eomer, determination set in his expression, "but that doesn't mean that the wooing part isn't important. I don't just want us to be a couple – I want to show you how special you are to me by sweeping you off of your feet."

Legolas couldn't help loving the sound of that. While he'd only been at the beginning of a romantic relationship twice (and one of those times was rekindling an old relationship) there had never been any proper wooing involved – unless requesting a kiss after shooting yourself in the foot or pressing someone up against a wall in the shadows, lying, and kissing them were considered to be courting techniques. This time, with this Man, it was going to be different. "All right," he said, letting himself smile with anticipation. "I accept your invitation. I would love to have dinner with you."

To be continued…


	27. To woo your love

_A/N: You get this chapter a little early, as I'll be at my parents' house when the usual posting time comes around. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Winter Solstice, and happy whatever other holidays that are coming in the next week that I haven't mentioned. And if none of these apply to you, have a good day anyway. _:)

The smell of a host of fantastic food filled the kitchen as Fredwyn, the chief cook, removed yet another dish from the fire and set it down on the preparation table. It was going to be an impressive dinner indeed, in her humble opinion, and it was a joy to prepare. It was like breaking out all of her recipes for a festive Yule celebration, but on a much smaller scale. Only two people would be feasting on it that night: King Eomer and Prince Legolas. The king had come to her weeks ago, immediately after a meeting with the noblemen where he learned that his having a romantic relationship with the elf was old news to them (the nobles' sentiments being best summed up by Gamling, who asked: "What, you two weren't already a couple?"), requesting the grand meal for two.

"_That's a lot of food," _she'd told him. _"May I ask if this is all for another just-because-I-think-it-would-be-nice meals?"_

"_It's not,"_ Eomer had told her, snatching a grape from a nearby fruit bowl. A huge grin then split his face; Fredwyn sore that she'd never seen him so happy before. _"Legolas and I have decided that we want something more than being alone together. I'm courting him, my good Fredwyn, and I fully intend on making this meal a part of a night to remember!"_

She was more than happy to oblige him, especially since cooking this meal gave her the best of both worlds. The cook got to make a lot of special food, which she loved doing; but instead of experiencing that last-minute time crunch that happens before a meal for many people no matter how careful the planning was, she had the time that goes along with cooking for only a few people. Now she could see to it that everything was perfect at a leisurely pace. That was a good thing too, for she didn't have the time to worry excessively about the food – she was too preoccupied with worrying about the king.

Fredwyn sighed ponderously. It had been so nice to hear King Eomer sound so enthusiastic about doing something that would make _him_ happy. She'd known him since he was a lad, having started her duties in the kitchen not long before he and his sister arrived at Meduseld to live, and in all of those years he'd rarely ever thought of himself before others. Lady Eowyn had let her mind wander often to daydreams of horseback riding and valor; poor Prince Theodred – _'may he find honor and peace in the halls of his fathers!' _– had always immersed himself in scrolls and songs so that he could learn to be the best king ever; but King Eomer had never indulged in daydreams or the pursuit of greatness. As the eldest of the three royal children Eomer had aged emotionally very rapidly after the death of his parents and had always taken his duties to his sister, cousin, and uncle extremely serious, so much so that it seemed that he never spent any time concentrating on what he would like for himself.

Now he was doing just that by finally giving in to his feelings and pursuing a relationship with Prince Legolas. However, that was proving to be another point of concern with Fredwyn. Oh, she liked the elf prince very much: he was kind, polite, appreciative, an excellent father, and he appeared to genuinely care for King Eomer. Still…there was great potential there for him to break the Man's heart.

What lay unresolved between the pair, what they refused to acknowledge but she couldn't ignore, was the issue of the prince's previous relationship. Someone had obviously betrayed, hurt, and abandoned Prince Legolas, leaving him alone in the world with a child in his stomach and nowhere to go – and she _knew_ that someone wasn't her king. While she was delighted to accept Lord Caladel as his acknowledged son she would never believe that King Eomer would ever enter into that deep a relationship and then let it end abruptly for the flimsiest of reasons; especially when that relationship was with Prince Legolas, whom he'd looked at so lovingly since the two elves arrived in Edoras last spring.

No, someone else had driven Prince Legolas into exile and was making it necessary for the king to command that no one talk about the presence of the elf and his son with anyone who wasn't from Rohan. The prince didn't seem the type who normally hid from his problems so whatever this sire did must have been terrible, and it was all yet unresolved. It was clear enough to Fredwyn that Prince Legolas hadn't said all that he needed to say to Lord Caladel's churlish sire, whoever he may be. All that unfinished business between two people who created a child together would make moving on difficult; and the prince and Lord Caladel's whereabouts couldn't be kept a secret forever. She could only hope that King Eomer's feelings wouldn't get crushed in the crossfire when _that_ messy situation reached its inevitable conclusion.

Yet at the same time Prince Legolas was a good, responsible person who never would enter into a relationship lightly when his son's well-being and future were caught up in it too. Not to mention the way that his eyes had been shining as of late whenever he spoke of or was around the king. Besides, King Eomer was a fine Man and a good catch – it would be insulting to him to think that he wouldn't be able to inspire feeling that were powerful enough to overcome the baggage of the past. Prince Legolas was a smart person; she had to have faith that he would know better than to let someone like King Eomer slip away.

"Fredwyn?" asked one of the kitchen servant girls, breaking through the cook's thoughts. "Do you need any help getting the food ready?"

"No, we should be all set by the time that they're ready to eat," the woman replied as she placed a decorative flower on one of the serving dishes for good presentation. "Is everything else running on schedule?"

"Oh yes," giggled the girl. "The king is in the dining hall right now, supervising the set-up of everything and talking to the lute player about where he should be standing and what kind of music should be played. Doesn't that sound so romantic: music, a private dinner, candlelight, and all that?"

"It certainly does," Fredwyn humored her.

There were stars in the girl's eyes as she sighed. "And the king is so considerate too!" she gushed. "My brother told me that he put up with Lord Gimli interrogating him while he sharpened an axe; and I saw with my own eyes how the lord watched him extra close for the rest of his visit. Few Men of name would endure that, let alone a king! He must really be in love."

"All right; enough, you silly girl," scolded Fredwyn maternally. "If you've got nothing better to do than go on and on about our king's personal affairs then I'll put you to work." She grabbed a nearby plate and filled it generously with samples from the feast. "Take this to the prince's suite. Lord Caladel will be spending the evening in there with a nanny. Prince Legolas has requested that he get the same food for dinner than he and the king will be having. He doesn't want the lord to feel excluded."

The servant girl accepted the plate with no complaints. "Prince Legolas is such a good father," she noted dreamily. "It's so sweet how overprotective he is of Lord Caladel. I bet…I bet if he and the king got married and had more children he would be able to relax a little about that. Wouldn't that be wonderful – about the children, I mean? Judging by Lord Caladel I think that any child of King Eomer and Prince Legolas will be beautiful."

"Don't concern yourself with how handsome the future heir of Rohan might potentially be," the cook advised her in an exasperated tone as she fought back against the faceless specter of the lord's birth sire in her mind. "That's for the king and the prince to sort out. You just worry about doing your part to make this evening as beautiful as possible."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eomer was well aware that he'd only mentioned having dinner whenever he'd brought up the special evening that he'd planned with Legolas. Still, how could it be called proper wooing if there was not also a little dancing? In his wildest fantasies the king pictured himself and Legolas outside on an extraordinarily flat piece of land, moving together in time with the music of a full orchestra under the light of a full moon; but he'd quickly put that aside. He knew that a gigantic production like that would feel too fussy and false to the elf at this point in their new relationship and that deep down Legolas was nervous enough about how things were progressing between them to effectively have it happen in front of such a large audience. There would (hopefully) be time to fulfill that fantasy later; at the moment he was more than content with the reality.

One lone lute player stood partially in the shadows of the dining hall to give Eomer and Legolas the allusion of privacy while he played a few songs. Those tunes were ancient love songs of Rohan and were meant to be sung, played, and listened to but not danced along with; but the couple managed to do just that. On the portion of the floor that had been cleared of its tables and benches the elf and Man improvised some traditional steps to keep up with and match the odd tempo, seemingly reading each other's minds as Eomer led without stomping on his partner's toes and Legolas followed without so much as a misstep.

Eomer was quite pleased with himself, as he was certain that he'd never been so graceful before in his life. Of course, his nimble partner and the fact that he'd also never _enjoyed_ dancing so much before in his life contributed to that feeling. "I'm so glad that you agreed to do this," he told Legolas warmly as he spun the elf around.

Legolas laughed merrily as he completed the impromptu move with ease and fell readily back into step with the Man. "To do what, spend this evening with your or dancing?" he asked.

"Well, I'm happy about both," said Eomer, "but I was talking about the dancing. You're really very good at this."

"Thank you," replied Legolas as Eomer ably guided them across the floor. "You're not so bad yourself. Were you forced to take dancing lessons when you were younger?"

"No," said Eomer. "Not formal ones, at any rate. It was all the doing of my Grandmother Morwen – my mother's mother. The last years of her life were apparently dedicated to teaching Eowyn, our cousin Theodred, and I how to dance and engage in all the other fine manners and actions of the highest court."

A sad, wistful look ghosted the Man's face. Legolas saw it and wondered if he should just let it pass without acknowledgement; but he didn't want Eomer to feel that he could only show his supportive, strong, and playful side to him. "What is it?" he questioned gently. "Have I brought up an unhappy memory?"

"It's not unhappy; only…" Eomer's voice trailed off as he pondered how much he should reveal on what was supposed to be a romantic night for them. Legolas took advantage of his momentary silence by lifting their joined hand to his lips and kissing the Man's knuckles in a way that made Eomer feel completely safe. "Grandmother was from Gondor; my grandfather, Fengel, met her in the years that he dwelt there. It was their home for a long time – they had three children there, including Uncle Theoden – and when Grandfather was called back to rule Rohan after his father died…he didn't want to leave. I suppose that the dancing lessons and the lectures of manners and speech were their way of bringing as much of Gondor here as they could. It was and still is hard at times to realize that they were ashamed of Rohan's rustic court and unrefined culture."

"Many people like what they like and fail to see the good and beauty in things that are different," Legolas told him, bringing the hand that was resting on Eomer's shoulder up to touch his bearded cheek. "As for myself, I have seen much of both Gondor and Rohan and while both have their merits I must say that I like Rohan better."

"Is that so?" asked Eomer as he leaned into the touch. "Why is that?"

"Well, for one thing I don't have to walk as far to feel the free earth beneath my feet," answered Legolas, pretending to grope for something to say. "And the Rohirrim are much more appreciative of their horses than the people of Minas Tirith, who get so uptight if you ride one within the walls of the city. There is beauty here that is unpretentious, and your formal clothing looks very good on me if I do say so myself."

Eomer smiled appreciatively and moved so that he could hold the elf at arm's length to admire how he looked in his outfit. He'd decided to wear Mannish garments that night, and while the king wasn't used to seeing them on him he liked how he looked in them very much; especially in the green that adorned a lot of the royal family of Rohan's clothing – brighter than the shade that Legolas normally wore, making him appear less solemn. "They do indeed," he remarked. "You look absolutely beautiful in them."

"One more thing I like about Rohan," said Legolas, trying to keep his tone light and jocular while he blushed. "The company that I keep here has no parallel anywhere in Middle-earth."

The Man unconsciously squared his shoulders proudly and there was an extra spring in his step as they continued to dance. "Well, now that you know the origin's of my dancing prowess, what about yours?" he asked good-humoredly. "Am I right in guessing that you _did_ have to take formal lessons?"

"Oh yes," laughed Legolas at the memory of those afternoons spent inside at those infernal lessons as his increasingly despondent instructor tried valiantly to keep the young princeling's wandering attention focused on the task at hand. "Thanks in no small part to my grandfather, Oropher, and the enormous amount of pride that he's passed down to my father and through him to me. Grandfather founded the realm of Greenwood after he and several other elves broke away from the Noldorin rule of Lothlorien."

"Noldorin?" repeated Eomer, testing that strange word out on his tongue.

"There are different types of elves, as there are different types of Men," Legolas explained. "The Noldor are high elves; they – they have not and do not always consider the Sindarin elves, like myself and my family, and Silvan elves, such as the people of Eryn Lasgalan, to be their equals. It was a point of pride for my grandfather to make it clear that we could get along just fine without the Noldor there to guide us as a parent guides a child. According to Ada, he was always defensive about showing them that his people could be just as cultured and refined as those in Lothlorien and Rivendell; that's why he made certain that my father would be able to hold his own against any one of them in every way."

"You never met your grandfather?" guessed Eomer in surprise. He'd just assumed that, seeing that elves were immortal, Legolas would have known many generations of his family.

An odd flicker came to the elf's eyes that spoke of both an external and internal conflict. "He died before I was born in the battle of elves and Man against Sauron at the Black Gates," he said slowly. "Some call his fall the unfortunate consequence of his pride; others say that it was an unavoidable and heroic death. I'll never know for sure, I suppose; but no matter what I know that he was no coward." He ducked his head momentarily and then looked up again with a closed-mouth smile. "But his spirit lived on in those lessons. Misery begets misery, as they say, and when I got old enough Ada made sure that I too learned to dance. How a father could do that to his son I will never understand."

"Caladel will be relieved to hear that," noted Eomer.

"Oh, Caladel is learning how to dance, as well as everything else," declared Legolas with a malicious glint in his eyes. "If I had to he has to too."

"I believe that you understand all too well," teased Eomer. "There are no qualified instructors in these parts, so you'll either have to bring in someone from Eryn Lasgalan or else teach him yourself. Perhaps I should be in on those lessons too so that our son learns how to both lead and follow."

A mischievous smirk came to Legolas' face. "I know how to lead," he informed him. "As Ada always told me, I never knew who I would end up dancing with. Therefore I had to become equally skilled at leading and following." He moved his arm suddenly, transferring the hand that was resting on his waist to his shoulder and placing his own hand on Eomer's waist, smoothly taking over the lead. "But I'm guessing that your grandmother skipped one of those lessons with you."

"She did," admitted Eomer as he stumbled at bit, unused to dancing backwards. Legolas tormented him like this for only a few seconds before taking pity, stilling them both and wrapping his arms around the Man. Eomer returned the embrace as the elf melted against him and buried his head in Legolas' neck. They continued to move to the music but instead of improving proper dancing they simply held each other and swayed to the slow, gentle tempo. "She didn't teach me this one either, but I must say that it's my favorite."

"Mine too," whispered Legolas.

The couple remained like that, almost forgetting that there was another person in the hall, until the music stopped. "Bravo," declared Legolas, breaking away from the Man to politely clap. The lute player modestly bowed in acknowledgement of the praise.

"Well done," concurred Eomer, going in the applause.

Over their shoulders, a wave from a young girl standing in the servants' doorway caught the musician's eye. "I am honored by your appreciation," he said humbly. "Your dinner is almost ready to be served; would you like me to continue playing?"

"No, thank you – if that's all right with you, Legolas," added Eomer, looking to his companion. The elf nodded. "Your music was lovely and you are now dismissed with our praise and gratitude. Please enjoy the rest of your evening."

Legolas watched the other Man depart, waiting serenely for the door to close behind him before speaking again. "No music during dinner, I take it," he ribbed Eomer as the king took him by the hand and kindly urged him to come with him to the table.

"I want us to have the chance to talk while we eat," explained Eomer as he directed Legolas not to one of the grand chair at either end of the table, which were to be occupied by the king and his significant other at formal occasions, but to one of the benches at the side. The Man then hurried to the other side and sat down facing him. "I don't know about you but I've always felt terrible speaking when someone is making the effort to play music for my enjoyment."

"That's very admirable," noted Legolas, feeling a surge of pride at how considerate Eomer was.

"Well, I must confess that I had an ulterior motive," replied Eomer, feigning shame. "I didn't want anyone to stay in the chamber at all except for you and me. It's going to be just the two of us for dinner and beyond into the rest of the evening."

Legolas was intrigued. When Eomer had suggested that they dine so that he could court him properly the elf had some underlying trepidation about how formal the night was going to be. While he greatly anticipated the romance of it all, he hadn't been looking forward to the stuffiness that ordinarily went along with formal occasions. However, judging by their dancing and the informal seating arraignment that would allow them to actually speak to each other without having to raise their voice Legolas was ready to put a lot of faith in Eomer's way of wooing. The hints that would have made him a bit nervous before now peaked his interest – what did the man have up his sleeve? "So we must find ways to entertain ourselves," he said good-naturedly. "You seem to have some ideas on how we can do that; are you going to share them with me?"

"If you wish. First, we will dine on a magnificent feast that has been lovingly prepared by dear cook Fredwyn – as you already know. Then," said Eomer confidentially, leaning in a little as if he was about to share his deepest secret, "when we've finished we'll grab our cloaks and take a long walk."

"To where?"

"Wherever we want," Eomer told him. "I was thinking of either starting or finishing by walking around the top platform outside Meduseld so that you can look out over the lands; but as long as I get the opportunity to see how breathtaking you are in the moonlight I am content to go anywhere."

The elf raised an eyebrow. "You flatter _and_ spoil me," he said in a neutral tone.

"I haven't gotten to the spoiling part yet," admonished Eomer playfully. "I have a little present for you that I'm not sure when to give you. It might be during dinner, before our walk, or any other point in the evening; I'm sure that I'll know the right moment when it comes along."

"Wow," said Legolas, unable to hold back his enthusiastic grin any longer. "When you set out to woo someone you pull out all of the stops, don't you?"

"When someone is special enough to court you shouldn't keep any of the, um, stops in," Eomer informed him, frowning a little at the strange and awkward phrase. "Huh – I never realized how off that saying is before: 'pulling out all the stops'. Ah!"

Eomer waved his hand to indicate to a servant hovering at the doorway to come in. The boy complied, carrying in a bottle of a familiar wine that had been chilling in the snow. He presented it to his king, who accepted it politely and dismissed him with a 'thank you'. "Can I interest you in a glass of the finest wine that I have ever tasted?" the Man asked Legolas. "I have here a bottle of the fabled Dorwinion; it was a Yule gift from someone that I hold very dear."

"Yes, please," said Legolas, moving his glass a little to make pouring a little easier for Eomer. "But not too much! The next bottle, more likely than not, will prove to be long-off in coming. You should save what you have for only the most important of occasions."

"There is no occasion more important to me than this one," said Eomer with quiet conviction as he finished pouring a good amount into the elf's glass.

No one had ever said something so sweet to him before; at least not something that he could trust. It might have been silly to equate how significant you are to someone by the kind of wine that they give you, but Legolas was Thranduil's son and to his father the Dorwinion was tied with jewels for fourth in his esteem, after Legolas and the departed Queen, his people, and his realm. The prince, finding himself more moved than he expected to be that evening, slowly reached across the table and slipped his hand into that of Eomer's. "Eomer, I" – he began.

He was interrupted, however, by an abrupt and insistent knocking on the main doors to the hall. Both of them jumped at the unexpected nose, breaking the romantic atmosphere – temporarily, each one privately hoped. "Oh for the love of the Valar," griped Eomer in annoyance. He'd left specific instructions that they were not to be disturbed unless there was absolutely no way that whatever business came up could wait! Turning his head, he glared at the door as he called to the intruder, hoping that a look would be enough to drive the person away. "This had better be important!"

The door opened and a young servant girl timidly entered, knowing all-too-well that her presence was not welcome there. "I am so very sorry for interrupting your meal, my king, Prince Legolas," she said quickly under Eomer's frustrated gaze and Legolas' unnerving stare, "but I'm afraid that it was unavoidable. It's Lord Caladel, sires; he's become quite ill. The nanny summoned a healer, but the lord has been asking for both of you."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"Let me see if I have this straight," said Legolas, sitting on his son's bed and rubbing soothing circles into his back. Lying on his side very close to the edge with his back to his ada the boy moaned piteously. Legolas did feel sorry for him, but that emotion would have shown through a lot clearer if he wasn't so confounded by his normally well-behaved son's actions. "Although your tutors, his parents, your papa, and I have all told you both not to eat the orange berries that grow on the shrubs by the stables, Bedric – your _best_ friend – dared you to do just that and you _accepted_?"

"Not exactly," Caladel told him in a weak voice as his stomach churned. He was very nauseous, even though he knew that there was nothing left in him to throw up. Thank Elbereth for the quick-thinking nanny who saw to it that a sick bucket was sitting right next to his bed right away! "He dared me and I double-dared him back; then he double-double-dared me" –

"Double-double-dare?" interrupted Legolas, trying to wrap his mind around the concept.

Caladel flushed a little. "That's when someone takes the double-dare they got and turns it around on the darer," he explained. Everyone knew that, so why was he feeling so embarrassed about telling his ada about it? "When that happens both people have to do the dare."

"Are you telling me that you _had_ to do it?" asked Legolas, furrowing his brow.

"Well, I guess I didn't _have_ to but if sure felt like I did at the time," amended Caladel sheepishly. He scrounged up enough strength to peer down to where his papa sat by his legs, dressed in his fine kingly clothing; and them over at his ada, who was clad in garments that matched what Eomer was wearing rather well. A wave of guilt hit the boy – he'd wanted for so long for the two of them to be happy and kiss and all the other things that parents usually do and when they finally set aside an evening to do just that he had to go and do something stupid to mess that up. "You both look very nice. I'm sorry that I spoiled your dinner. You should give me a really mean punishment for that."

Eomer patted his knee reassuringly. "My boy, I have no doubt that those berries are giving you more than ample punishment already," he said knowingly. He looked over to the healer who been attending Caladel since he first fell ill. "Those berries can be dangerous if eaten in large quantities; are you sure that he's going to be all right?"

"Oh yes, your majesty," the healer assured him. "He told me that he and his friend only ate a couple apiece and I've seen no indication that he had any more than what was enough to give his stomach a good turn. The nausea will pass soon enough and he will be as good as new. The best thing that he can do for himself right now is to get some rest – and to keep this experience in mind whenever he and his friends find themselves around those particular shrubs in the future."

Caladel turned a little greener. "Oh, I won't _ever_ forget this."

"Thank you," said Legolas gratefully to the healer while he stroked his son's sweat-tinged hair. As the Man left, he pulled the blankets up around the miserable elfling. "You heard him, Caladel: go to sleep. I'll stay right here beside you."

"No, no – you don't have to do that!" protested Caladel bravely. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep with his ada lying next to him, all dressed up in his nice clothing. It would be a constant reminder of what he'd ruined for his parents that night. "Go back to your evening! I'm just going to be sleeping anyway; I won't need the company."

"Are you sure that you don't need me here?" asked Legolas, feeling slightly hurt at Caladel's dismissal even though he knew that the boy didn't mean it that way. Caladel nodded and snuggled down into the mattress a bit for effect. "All right, but I'll be in my bedchamber right next through that door in case you need anything. Good night, Caladel; and feel better."

"Sweet dreams," added Eomer, bending over to kiss his son's cheek after Legolas did the same.

Legolas reluctantly left the boy's bedchamber, blowing out Caladel's lantern as he passed by it. Eomer followed, shutting the door quietly behind them as the elf sat down heavily on the bed. "I can't believe that he actually _ate_ those berries," marveled Legolas, his crankiness poorly masking his underlying fear. "What was he thinking? He could have – ended up worse off than just having an upset stomach."

"This probably won't make you feel better, but believe it or not accepting the dare to eat the _forbidden_ orange berries is practically a rite of passage for a child of Rohan," Eomer told him. "Theodred and I were victims of the double-double-dare when I wasn't much older than Caladel is now."

"He gets this from you, then?" questioned Legolas with a wry twitch of his lips.

"From me and every foolish Rohirric child that came before him," nodded Eomer, the voice of experience. "Trust me, if he's feeling even a fraction of how I felt when I did it he will _never_ eat them again – in fact, he'll have a hard time eating anything orange for awhile."

That got a laugh out of Legolas, but soon the humor in his expression faded away. "I'm so sorry, Eomer," he apologized. "You had such lovely evening planned out" –

Eomer impulsively crossed the bedchamber and sat down next to him. "And I'll be doing that again," he voiced. "But Caladel needed us tonight and I refuse to be upset about missing out on the rest of the night because of that. We have plenty of time; there will be more chances for dinners and moonlit walks."

"And the present?" teased Legolas.

"The present!" Eomer's face lit up. "Yes, I can give you your present – right now, yes, right now. This feels like the right time. Close your eyes if you would, Legolas." The elf complied, listening intently as Eomer rustled around in a hidden pocket. "All right, open them!"

Legolas' eyes fluttered open to see the Man holding up a dried sprig of a plant that he recognized instantly. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"It might be," Eomer informed him earnestly. "This is the mistletoe you gave me at Yule. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away; perhaps," he added, his eyes twinkling, "because of guilt. You see, the king is not exempt from the rules of tradition; I just made that up to keep my feelings for you a secret. It's only fair, then, that I comply now. I await your instruction on where I have to kiss someone."

"Is that so?" asked Legolas, considering. "Well, that depends: who are you going to be kissing?"

"That's not in the rules," argued Eomer. "It shouldn't be a factor in your decision."

"But it is," insisted Legolas. "If you're going to kiss our son then I will choose the cheek. If it is anyone else, the hand. If it's me…"

"It is you," murmured Eomer warmly, proving it by tenderly taking his hand, pulling it open, and placing the mistletoe on his palm. "As long as I have any choice in the matter it will always be you."

Leaning in toward him Legolas unconsciously licked his lips. "In that case, you must kiss me on the mouth," he said softly. "And not just on the corner."

Eomer smiled broadly and drew the elf into an embrace a split second before claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss. "Your turn," he gasped when they finally broke apart. "I'm very tempted to request that you match that kiss, but then again I don't know who you're going to give that mistletoe to…"

"Eomer," scolded Legolas frankly, shutting the Man up with a kiss. "Before me is someone who spent weeks planning every detail of a special evening only to set it aside when our son needed us; a Man who wasn't so insecure that he wouldn't let me lead when we danced; someone who saved a souvenir of our first kiss; and just happens to be as good a kisser as he is a person – which is saying something remarkable. There is no one that I'd rather be kissing, Eomer," he went on, placing the mistletoe back in the Man's hand and covering that hand with his own. "Consider me wooed."

To be continued…

_A/N: The family information that was in Legolas and Eomer's dance conversation was pulled from the appendices and other reliable sources. If I got anything wrong I apologize._


	28. Intimacy issues

_A/N: I'm so sorry that this chapter is a little late! My niece was visiting all yesterday and stayed until this morning, leaving me no time to type and post until now._

By the time that the smell of rain and the first hints of spring were in the air Caladel's blind euphoria about Legolas and Eomer's relationship had come to an end and he was again uneasy and frustrated with what he believed was lacking between his two parents. He'd been keeping his thoughts on the matter bottled up for a couple of weeks, not wanting to approach his ada and papa for fear that they would reconsider everything between them if he pointed out to them what he'd figured out and unable to talk to anyone else because they all seemed to think that things were going perfectly in the king and prince's relationship.

The boy really couldn't blame the people of Rohan for their assumption – even he had been under that delusion, and for good reason. On the surface Legolas and Eomer's romance was going great: they'd been spending so much time together. At least once a week the couple would have their private evenings and Caladel made sure that he never did anything to interrupt another one of those. One night there had been a fancy banquet with all of Rohan's nobles there to celebrate some anniversary of a victory in the War that happened before he was born; and in front of everybody Eomer had insisted that, instead of simply eating at the head table like he normally did (which was an honor in itself), Legolas sit right beside him in a large chair with neat carvings on it. All of the nobles and servants who were there talked about it a lot so Caladel knew that it was a big deal.

As if all of that wasn't enough, his ada and papa were always acting all goofy around each other. Caladel made sure to roll his eyes – even though he was smiling on the inside – whenever he saw them smiling dreamily at one another. They also had funny looks in their eyes whenever they looked at each other. Plus, they were always kissing when they didn't think that anyone else was watching. All of this caused a lot of excitement with whoever Caladel talked to or observed. People all around him from noble to citizen to guard to peasant to servant were constantly whispering about the 'progress' that their king's romance with the elf prince was doing fine and could only get better. Only their worried son knew the truth.

He found it a bit strange that no one had noticed the problem until now. Well, most people wouldn't be in a position where they could discover it but there was no reason why the guards and servants assigned to work in Meduseld couldn't have realize what was wrong! Caladel himself had been too preoccupied at first with how his parents didn't kiss each other like most of his friends' parents did. But then they started doing just that and the elfling had been ready to be satisfied, feeling secure about what they felt for each other. However, two weeks prior to the day when Caladel was too distracted by his thoughts to pay attention during his riding lesson the boy had accidentally found out that something was still missing from their relationship: they weren't sharing a bedchamber.

How Caladel wished now that he'd never learned about this! But it wasn't as if he'd gone _looking _for the information; one night it had come to pass that his ada and papa were having one of their special evenings and, instead of spending the time with a nice but boring nanny, the boy had been allowed to have a special evening of his own: spending the night at the home of his best friend Bedric. Everything had been so fun and carefree until it was time to go to bed: it was then that Bedric's mother told the boys that if they needed anything from her to knock on her bedchamber door. Caladel had asked Bedric's father where they could find him if they needed him and, after a long pause, the Man had told him that he and his wife lived in the same chamber.

The worst part of it was that sharing a bedchamber wasn't an odd thing for parents to do! Too bad Caladel knew for a fact that it wasn't; he'd asked Bedric about it the first chance that he got and his friend had informed him that everybody's set of parents did this, at least at one point in their lives. But that wasn't true for Legolas and Eomer – the elfling was fair certain that they'd never _slept_ in the same bedchamber, let alone lived in the same one.

Caladel moaned internally. The fact that they lived together in Meduseld apparently wasn't enough to make his fathers a real couple like everyone else's parents! His poor heart broke a little more every time his mind strayed to that reality and what it meant. Were his parents not like each other as much because of it? Were the three of them less of a family than his friends and their parents?

Those kinds of questions were very big for a little boy to have to ponder. It was perfectly understandable why he was having such a hard time concentrating on the task at hand, namely listening to Alfmund about how he had to hold himself when he made his horse jump. This wasn't a good thing, nor had it gone unnoticed. "Caladel?" his instructor asked.

"Mmmmh?" mumbled Caladel distantly in response.

This wasn't like the bright and enthusiastic young lordling that Alfmund normally instructed. He usually couldn't get out a complete sentence without Caladel interrupting, itching to ask for more details; and he almost always had to restrain the lively boy from trying out each new technique before it was fully and properly explained. "You're just – sitting there," pointed out Alfmund, gesturing haphazardly to the child's place atop his horse. "And you're rather quiet."

"Sorry," said Caladel softly, looking down.

"You're not acting like yourself at all," continued Alfmund. He wondered if it was his place to inquire further. He was technically a tutor, not a friend or member of the family; but at the same time he'd always felt a special bond with the boy, seeing that he was the one who first saw Caladel and carried him from Fangorn to Edoras on his horse. He was also one of the few adults that still referred to Caladel without using the elfling's official title and the fact that the king and prince didn't mind this indicated that they understood and approved of his unique standing in the boy's life. "Is something troubling you?"

Deep down Caladel knew that he wasn't supposed to be discussing anything at a lesson except what he was supposed to be learning (one of his tutors had approached Legolas early on with the complaint that his son was a bit of a chatterbox and Legolas had talked to him about it immediately), but his heart felt much lighter as soon as the Man had asked the question. It would be all right to talk about other things if it was the tutor himself who started to conversation in the first place, right? Besides, it would make the boy feel oh so much better to talk to someone about his worries. Alfmund was an adult, after all, and if anyone had the answers to the questions that had been bothering him it would be an adult. "Can – can I ask you something?" he whispered.

"Of course," assured Alfmund compassionately with a concerned frown on his face. He rode a bit closer to the boy, stilled both of their horses, and leaned in closer. "You can always talk to me if you need to. What's on your mind?"

"Do your parents share a bedchamber?" inquired Caladel.

Alfmund's expression froze as his stomach sank. _'Please, **no**.' _How did he manage to always stick his foot into these types of situations? If there was any mercy and pit in Middle-earth this couldn't happen: the son of the most powerful Man in Rohan – and his liege lord – was _not_ heading down the path that it sounded like with his questions. "Yes," he replied hesitantly, apprehensive about giving any sort of answer that might start a conversation that he most definitely didn't want to have.

"My parents don't share a bedchamber!" confided Caladel in a blurt that seemed to Alfmund to echo loudly for miles on end. "They've never once! Whenever Papa stays in our suite to talk to Ada after I go to bed he doesn't stay the whole night!"

"And – and this upsets you?" stammered the young Man helplessly. First he had to hear about how Caladel's parents never kissed and now this – what had he done so horribly wrong to deserve to have to learn about the king's sex life in a way that practically required him to be executed?

"Yes!" declared Caladel loudly in a tone that made it clear that he thought that the answer should have been obvious. "Bedric's do – I've seen it with my own eyes – and he _told_ me that so do all of my friends' parents. You just told me that yours' do too. I bet everyone's parents share a bedchamber except mine! Why can't Papa stay the whole night? Why aren't the three of us in the same suite? I mean, we all live in the same home and Ada and Papa are like my friends' parents in every other way. Why can't they just sleep together too?"

The young Man bit his cheek, trying to keep his response clean and under control, so hard that he drew blood. "You – your friends' parents, and mine too, were a couple for awhile before they started sharing a bedchamber," he explained in a fumbling manner, silently reminding himself that the young, innocent child hadn't meant to imply _anything_ sexual and therefore he didn't need to let his mind wander to those thoughts. "It's a big decision to make, Caladel. The fact that they have separate bedchambers doesn't mean that they are any less your parents, or make them love you any less. Nor does it change how they feel about each other and you've also seen with your own eyes how much they care for each other. You yourself have told a lot of people on many occasions that your parents are much happier now that they kiss one another whenever they wish."

"That _is _true," conceded Caladel, deep in thought. His face brightened and he smiled happily at Alfmund, making the tutor considerably nervous. "But that means that I was right! Why can't I be right about this too? I mean, if kissing makes them act all silly and happy, just imagine how much better they would feel if they slept together!"

Dear Valar, did the boy have to shout his conclusions out for the entire city to hear? How did this happen to him; how did he end up becoming the young lord's – the acknowledged son of the king – confidant when it came to King Eomer and Prince Legolas' romantic and sexual lives? There were no words to describe how very inappropriate it was for him to know all of the things that he knew, and even more so to have it be their young son acting as his informant. He wished that there was some way that he could discourage Caladel from those kinds of conversations; but he couldn't think of one that wouldn't also discourage him from opening up about everything else too, hurting the boy's feelings, or implying something that would compromise Caladel's innocence.

"That could very well be," Alfmund finally managed to choke out as he prayed that the boy wouldn't notice how red his face had become. He had to do something about this soon, before anyone found out what he and Caladel sometimes talked about. The young Man was certain that the king and prince wouldn't understand if they learned about it from someone else.

"Thank you," said Caladel sincerely and proudly, feeling vindicated.

With that matter finally resolved – or at least off of his mind and chest – the elfling got through the rest of the riding lesson relatively untroubled. He couldn't help noticing, however, how uncharacteristically distracted Alfmund had become. Wanting to return the favor, he asked the Man about what was on his mind. Alfmund simply answered that he had something to see to right after their lesson and it was going to be difficult. Caladel hoped that his older friend would be able to find a grown-up to talk to and make it all better, just like he had.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It was the end of another demanding, grueling archery training session for the soldiers that were to become Rohan's elite archers. As they gathered around their instructor, Legolas, as they always did before they were dismissed, each one of the Men were exhausted, felt like their arm muscles had been stretched to the limit, and were brimming with well-earned satisfaction at the pride that was coming through the elf's normally impeccably guarded expression.

"Well done. Many of you showed signs of marked improvement today and all of you are progressing nicely," announced Legolas, carefully plotting how to balance his praise with motivation and a will to drive them to improve even more. "We still have a lot of work to do, but each day you come here and prove that you are capable of the hard work and diligence that it will take to turn you into archers to be respected and feared. I believe that if you work to top yourself at every lesson the archers of Rohan could very well become renowned throughout all the peoples of Middle-earth someday. I am pleased with the effort that all of you put forth today. You are now dismissed."

Murmurs of "yes, my prince" and "thank you, my prince" sounded from all around him as the crowd dispersed. More than a few of them took the time to bow to him before departing, a gesture that Legolas made clear wasn't necessary on the archery field but that he was proud to receive nonetheless. The elf felt so useful and respectable around his students, and he considered a good number of them his friends too. It was so nice to feel needed and not lonely. "Tomorrow, same time!" he called out as they left. "We'll be working on distance shooting and increasing the speed of how fast you can load and fire, so remember to bring a lot of – Alfmund?"

The throng of archers had thinned out enough for the elf to see his son's riding instructor standing at the edge of the field. The young Man was shifting his weight from one foot to the other repeatedly while wringing his hands and generally looking extremely nervous. There was only one reason why Legolas thought that anyone, especially one of Caladel's tutors, should be nervous around him. All of the blood drained from his face and his feet ran him over to Alfmund of their own volition. "What's wrong?" he demanded urgently, his mind dwelling on the worst scenarios and images. "Is it Caladel? Was he thrown from his horse? Is he ill? Was he injured? Oh, I knew he wasn't old enough to learn how to jump yet!"

"My prince," began Alfmund.

"What five-year-old needs to know how to jump a fence?" ranted Legolas. This had been a point of contention between himself and Eomer and he'd only reluctantly conceded when Caladel had begged him to and Alfmund had assured him in every way possible that his son would remain unharmed. "Where is he now? Don't just stand there staring at me – speak!"

Alfmund jumped. "I'm terribly sorry – I didn't mean to alarm you," he said, seeming embarrassed rather than worried. Legolas, knowing that the young Man would have been beside himself if anything had happened to his charge, relaxed slightly. "I did come here to talk to you about Caladel, but he's _fine_. Um, is there anywhere that we could speak in private?"

"Here is as good a place as any," Legolas informed him. "My students have been dismissed and if they do any practicing it will be at the field by the weapon's storage, not here. None save my son and Eomer would come to my private field without my permission or a very good reason for disturbing me. Now please tell me what happened with Caladel to make you come here, and so quickly?"

"This – well, this, ah," stuttered Alfmund, looking as uncomfortable as he sounded. He rolled his head skyward and let out a long, audible sigh before righting himself again and looking at the elf. "I must apologize if this sounds too forward, my prince, but I feel that it is necessary to let you know what Caladel confided to me today."

"All right," said Legolas, a little confused but willing enough to go along with it.

"He told me, Prince Legolas," said Alfmund in a low voice, "that he believes that you and King Eomer would be happier if the two of you…shared a bedchamber."

The tips of Legolas' ears turned bright red. "I beg your pardon?" he asked in a tight voice.

"I swear upon my life and my brother's memory that I didn't ask him to share with me anything so personal!" Alfmund burst out nervously, rambling on fearfully when he couldn't read the prince's expression. "But he trusts me and I don't want to take that away from him. I thought about talking to him about not speaking about such matters, but he's so bright and curious that he'd only ask me why not and there would be no way to explain without discussing what would be inappropriate for me to discuss with him! So I thought that you should know what's been going through his mind lately, and you could tell him all of that stuff." He paused, panting a little. "For what it's worth I don't think that he's shared this with anyone else."

"I thank you for your candor, Alfmund," said Legolas graciously, his mind reeling. Honestly, where did Caladel come up with his ideas at times? "I shall have a talk with him about respecting my and Eomer's privacy as soon as possible. The last think we need is for the nobles and citizenry to think that Caladel can keep them up-to-date on how far our relationship has…progressed."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. People already know" – Alfmund suddenly snapped his jaw shut with a noisy click that hurt his teeth.

Legolas looked at him with the same sharp eye that he gave Caladel whenever he suspected that the boy was trying to hide something. "Do go on," he ordered in an exceedingly polite tone. "What is it that 'people already know'?"

What in Middle-earth was the matter with him? He had gotten through telling the love of his king's life that he knew more about their personal goings-on than they would care for him to and managed to escape penalty. Now that he was in the clear he had to let his big mouth shoot off without his brain! "It's nothing," Alfmund protested meekly, feeling about an inch tall under the prince's stare.

"Then there's no reason why you can't tell me all about it," countered Legolas evenly.

"Please forgive me, my prince," said Alfmund, looking and feeling absolutely miserable. "It's just that – mistaken impression – a lot of people – seem to have drawn the wrong conclusion. Please find it in your heart to not judge us harshly. It's just that you two do live under the same roof – in the same quarters, even. You also already have one child together. It is not unreasonable then to assume that you and the king had a strong relationship before you, uh, left for all those years; and there are many people who assumed that things more or less picked up where they left off when you came to live at Meduseld, a long time before the king's official announcement. When all of that is taken into consideration, it can be understood why people might think that you and King Eomer are already…intimately involved."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Legolas' cheeks were flaming red as he paced around in his bedchamber. He'd retreated to the only truly personal private place that he had after Alfmund's humiliating revelation, detesting the idea of being anywhere where he might run into someone who thought that either he would just hop into bed with Eomer a little over two months into their relationship or else kept their romance a secret for months for laughs. Dear Elbereth, if the people thought that he and Eomer had been a couple since last spring how many of them assumed that they'd been sleeping together for that long?

It was bitterly ironic: he'd gone into exile almost six years ago to avoid being known by a hated title only to have it thrust on him without his knowledge in the one place that felt like home. Maybe it was his destiny after all. Be he in Gondor or Rohan maybe there was nothing else that Legolas could be besides the king's whore.

'_Stop that,'_ he told himself harshly. _'People like you and they respect you here. Even someone like Alfmund, who obviously believed that you were having sex with Eomer, was uncomfortable about knowing the supposed details rather than disgusted and condescending about what he thought you were doing.'_

Legolas walked over to the bed and forced himself to sit down and think rationally. While there may be a few people who were judgmental and smug about what they assumed to be the truth about their relationship, most of the Rohirrim probably didn't think poorly of him for supposedly sleeping with their king. Now that he thought about it, it was a natural assumption: if Caladel was their child they would have had to have had sex at least once before. Add that to the fact that, while not being overly and inappropriately affectionate in front of crowds of people, Legolas and Eomer had never made it a secret that the physical side to their relationship was healthy and the elf had to admit that he might have very well come to the same conclusion if he were in the peoples' position.

Besides, even if their assumptions had been correct, Legolas would _not_ have been treated like the king's whore. Eomer was not Aragorn. The latter had insisted from the outset on keeping their involvement a secret for the sake of someone who was supposed to have left for a place where Middle-earth and everything in it become nothing more than a memory; the former had never asked to keep their relationship a secret for more than a day, and that was only because he wanted to announce it in the right way. Aragorn had left him as soon as he heard that Arwen was still around; Eomer had proven time and time again that he was committed to making things work between them. Legolas had never been anything more than, at worst, Aragorn's dirty little secret, or, at best, his secret love; while now the elf had been with Eomer for so long in one for or another that he was practically – although not technically – the king's spouse. Most telling of all, he hadn't been reconciled with Aragorn for a day before the Man had asked him to sleep with him; he and Eomer had been together for two months and Eomer had never mentioned the topic once.

That was supposed to be comforting – so why did Eomer's apparent lack of interest in the subject of sex bother Legolas so much on a deeper level? How the prince wished that Alfmund had never brought any of this up; blissful ignorance was looking better and better compared to having to think about this too much. The truth, as much as it shamed Legolas to admit it, was that he was becoming increasingly less satisfied with kisses and chaste caresses and more frustrated with how limited his romance with Eomer was physically.

The kissing part was fantastic, of course, but that and the touches were kindling something within him and the fire that haunted his dreams, the one that had led him astray in his waking life before, was getting harder and harder to ignore. Legolas knew know that he hadn't been ready for sex when he'd asked Aragorn to touch him at Helm's Deep. He was feeling ready now, but of course he'd thought the same thing back then too. What if he was wrong again?

'_Eomer could be feeling as frustrated as I am and is just too much of a gentleman to say anything,' _reasoned Legolas. _'Perhaps I should just put us both out of our misery and approach him. I mean, it's not as if I'm virginal anymore so it doesn't really matter if I have sex again as long as it's with someone I care about.'_

But it did matter. As much as Legolas loved his son, having sex with Aragorn before he was ready had been a mistake and Caladel had suffered for it; exiled before birth, growing up for almost five years without a family or non-Entish friends, and cut off from the world that he had every right to be a part of. No, just because he'd made a mistake once didn't mean that it was no big deal to make it again. This relationship with Eomer was his second chance to be happy and he didn't want to waste it by not learning from the past. Then again, he could end up messing everything up by being so afraid of the past's lessons that he didn't allow himself or his new relationship to grow. Legolas buried his face in his hands. This was so confusing!

A soft knocking at the door made the elf look up again. "Legolas?" called Eomer from the other side. "Legolas, I know you're in there. May I come in?"

"Yes," replied Legolas automatically, bracing himself for…for whatever was about to happen. This was Eomer, whom he trusted not to judge him; he had to trust the Man right back by being honest, no matter where that course might lead them. "Please come in."

Eomer opened the door just enough to enter the bedchamber and then shut it behind him quietly. "Are you all right?" he asked concernedly. "One of the guards came to my office to tell me that he saw you hurry into here, and that you looked very upset. What happen – mmmmm!"

While he'd been speaking Legolas had deftly rose to his feet, quickly and resolutely crossed the chamber, and planted a hard and unexpectedly passionate kiss on his lips. Eomer was stunned – it usually took a little while for Legolas to get comfortable enough to kiss him when they were in a bedchamber – but he wasn't complaining, especially not when the elf began to massage Eomer's tongue with his own. "Wow," stated the Man once they had parted. "That was a fantastic way to be greeted; but what was it for?"

"It was something nice to hold on to while we have a much-needed conversation," explained Legolas ruefully. Eomer looked at him curiously – not like he would have before and during the early days of their relationship when he'd always been half-afraid that the elf was about to leave. Legolas found strength in the Man's faith and drew in a deep steeling breath. "Eomer, did you know that people believe that we're being intimate?"

"Is that" – Eomer checked himself and sighed. "Not with my own ears – _no one _would dare approach me about that personal a matter, whether they were being crass or not – but it doesn't surprise me that something like that is going around. I know how peoples' minds work and I know the power of idle gossip, especially among the court. Would you like for me to issue an edict or something along those lines and put a stop to it?"

"No; denying it would only make them believe it more," noted Legolas with sardonic wisdom. "That's not what's bothering me anyway; at least it's not the root cause. Eomer" – he swallowed and looked imploringly into the Man's eyes –"do you _want_ to sleep with me?"

Of all the questions that he could have asked! Eomer looked at him for an entire minute in silence before speaking again. "Do you want me to be polite or be completely honest?"

"Honest, always."

"You're very beautiful, Legolas," said Eomer, taking both of the elf's hands and raising them to his lips, kissing them lovingly. "I'm not blind, nor am I devoid of all sexual urges. I – you know that I will never push you to do anything before you felt ready; but I also would never turn you down when you are ready. I do desire you – very much so. Why are you asking?"

"I – I'm very confused right now," admitted Legolas, leaning against the Man and sighing. Eomer felt his lips brush against his throat and the hot air exhaling against his skin. He missed both sensations keenly when Legolas stood up straight once more. "I must ask you to indulge me in a little rambling without interrupting, no matter what I say."

Eomer nodded wordlessly and gestured for him to continue. "I desire you as well," said Legolas. "I've been wanting to do more than just kiss for longer than I care to admit, but I'm…I'm afraid. I don't mean this as an insult – it doesn't have anything to do with you, really – but…. I _know_ that you would never leave me unless you had no other choice but I also _knew_ that _he_ would never leave me either. You are not _him_; then again _he _didn't start out as _him_ either. There are times when all I want to do is get beyond kissing and be with you, and I'll think that I'm ready; other times I get so scared that everything will get messed up again. Am I making any sense or have I just succeeded in insulting you?"

"Perfect sense, and no insult taken," Eomer assured him. "You've been hurt before and it's difficult to work past that. I'm so moved that you're trying so hard to be with me, but it sounds like you're talking about – forgive the analogy – going from trotting around the learners' arena to riding bareback at top speed over the open plains without stopping anywhere in between. There are other things between kissing and sex that we can do. I mean, what else do you have some experience with?"

Legolas was decidedly uncomfortable, having never discussed the details of his personal sex life so candidly before. "I've kissed and I've had sex," he offered with a shrug. "Well, _he_ touched me but he asked to make love to me before I could do the same, or anything else, to him." He suddenly looked very young. "That was my first time."

The Man silently cursed Caladel's blood sire for being so uncouth and thoughtless as to let a little touching get him so excited that he felt it necessary to rush to the sex part, and then leaving Legolas with all these mixed emotions about sex so that _he _could move on to _supposedly_ greener pastures. "Touching doesn't have to lead to sex," he said emphatically. "We can do that if you want to; we can use our mouths" –

"For what?" wondered Legolas, intrigued by what he'd only heard about vaguely before. Eomer raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Oh for Elbereth's sake, you've met my father! Do you really think that he talked to me about it, or that anyone else dared to either?" He smiled coquettishly. "Perhaps you can show me what we can do with our mouths."

"Whatever you want," vowed Eomer breathlessly, trying to keep his desire under control as unbidden, tempting images flashed over and over again in his mind.

Legolas responded by kissing him, more tenderly than before; but it was filled with raging fire as he backed up and gently steered them both to the bed. "I want to touch you," he whispered as sat down on the edge. "And then I want you to do something to me that no one has ever done before."

Eomer looked deep into his blue eyes; there was apprehension there, yes, but there was also trust. "That can be arranged," he smiled.

The king leaned his body forward and kissed Legolas, a long and connected series of lip locks as he used his form to guide the elf to lay back. When Legolas was down and he was both lying on top of him and still standing Eomer maneuvered himself onto the bed as well, shifting and directing until they were both on their sides. After a few more moments of relaxing in that familiar territory of kissing, Legolas' hand found Eomer's hip and began to slide down; lower and lower, then under his pants, until it made contact with the place that made the Man gasp aloud. Legolas continued to explore that piece of flesh with a mixture of awe and enthusiasm as their kissing grew more fevered. It felt wonderful to be the one giving the pleasure, to hear Eomer's increasingly loud and rapturous moans and cries and know that it was because of him. His hand grew ever bolder and more confident until Eomer thrust hard into his grasp and cried out his name as he climaxed.

Struggling to breathe normally again, Eomer couldn't help rolling Legolas onto his back and caressing his face as he stared down at him adoringly. "You are so – I don't deserve – you make me feel things that I never thought that I could feel," he declared, his eyes so full of emotion that it almost made Legolas ache to look into them. "I want you to feel what I just felt. Let me pleasure you with my mouth, please."

"Yes," consented the elf amorously as his body begged for release.

Eomer slid down, his face always hovering over Legolas' clothed body, until he was at the prince's waist. "I'll have to lower your leggings a bit," he warned, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. Legolas nodded and the king slowly slid the garment down just enough to free Legolas' arousal. "Tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Legolas tried to say something along the lines of 'all right' but was robbed of all speech when he saw Eomer lower his mouth onto him. An indescribably fantastic wet heat surrounded the elf and he let out a choked cry of pleasure. The Man knew what he was doing, skillfully pleasuring him and holding his hips carefully in place when Legolas lost all thought and started to thrust. With Eomer's talent and the fact that it had been almost six years since he'd found rapture with another person it didn't take long for Legolas to reach his peak and soon he found himself falling over the figurative edge.

"Oh," the elf breathed after several moments of deep panting. "That was – I'm sorry I didn't know about that until now." The joking left his face and his expression turned tender. "I'm so blessed to have you in my life, Eomer. Thank you for being so patient and understanding with me."

"It's not nearly as difficult as you seem to think it is," smiled Eomer serenely. He lowered his head once more, this time to rest it on Legolas' stomach, and whispered in a voice so quiet that no Man could be able to hear it unless he'd been speaking directly into his hear: "I love you."

He'd forgotten, however, that Legolas was not a Man, but an elf with keen ears who could hear any confession in such a voice perfectly. As Eomer lay there, completely content, a new worry – more potent than the physical intimacy issue could ever be – hit the elf like an avalanche.

To be continued…

_A/N: I know that Aragorn has been physically absent from the story as of late (although I have been trying to reference him in every chapter so that he doesn't completely disappear). The fact of the matter is that he doesn't really fit into this part beyond how Legolas' experience with him influences his relationship with Eomer. I've been building up Legolas and Eomer's relationship to give it some weight against the complexities of Legolas and Aragorn's relationship and to make the love triangle more compelling and not as easy to sort out. Aragorn will be back in Chapter 31._


	29. After all that's happened

"_I love you."_ Eomer's words echoed throughout Legolas' mind as the elf lay in bed one spring morning. _"I love you."_ He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. _"I love you."_ He might have been tempted to try to go back to sleep to escape them but he knew that it wouldn't work. Those three words had been haunting his dreams just as often – if not more – as they had his waking life in the few weeks that had passed since Eomer had whispered them. _"I love you." "I love you." "I love you."_

Why had he said that? What did he mean by it? What did he want from Legolas because of it? The elf slapped his hand over his eyes and felt guilty about selfishly considering waking Caladel up early so that he could focus on getting the boy ready for breakfast and not have so much time to mull over Eomer's declaration. When he was up and about Legolas was able to convince himself that the Man's words had only been a figure of speech, a slip of the tongue, something only uttered because of the passionate and intense encounter that had just happened between the two of them – in other words, absolutely nothing that he would have to worry about. During the day he let himself believe that Eomer loved him in that way that a person loves a friend who had become something a bit more. It was when Legolas was in bed with nothing to do but think that he was forced to remember how Eomer had always looked at him, how the Man acted when he was around, the tenderness and devotion he displayed every time he touched the prince, and he had to admit to himself that Eomer had meant every word that he had said: he was _in love_ with Legolas.

Legolas' only comfort at the time was even though he alternated between being unsure of the answers to his first two questions and afraid of the answers' implications he never doubted the answer to the third: Eomer wanted nothing that the elf wasn't willing to give. Oh, he may _desire_ to know if the person he loved was able to return the feelings but he wouldn't _want_ to pressure him into saying or feeling anything. He hadn't said the words to his face loud enough so that he was certain that Legolas could hear them, after all; he'd whispered them at a volume that he obviously hadn't expected anyone to hear. However, that didn't change the fact that the words had been said, they had been heard, and now they were driving Legolas out of his mind with worry over what was going to happen next.

Normally Legolas would have made himself confront Eomer about it at once as soon as he realized how much the Man's declaration was troubling him. He had no doubt that Eomer would be understanding; honest but respectful as the two of them talked it over and figured out how to carry on. It had worked so well in the past, but this time…this time was different. This time Legolas, to his great uneasiness, wasn't sure how he felt and it was difficult to have a discussion about your feelings if one didn't know what they were yet.

'_Oh, why couldn't things had stayed as they had been?'_ wondered Legolas forlornly. It would have been nice if he could turn back time to a place where he was sure beyond a doubt about how he felt about both Eomer and love. He loved Eomer as a dear friend and as someone who had the potential to be something more. That wasn't a terrible thing by a long shot, for it was the same happy, full-hearted feeling that he had for other people and places that he loved: Caladel for one, whom it seemed like Legolas was born to love. His father also ranked high on the list of people that the elf loved. Legolas also loved Gimli (although it wasn't something that he liked to admit to the dwarf) and the dear hobbits that he missed more and more each passing day. Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen were dear in his heart as well and it pained him that he wasn't ready to face them yet. Elbereth, Legolas loved the realms of Eryn Lasgalan and the people belonging to them, Fangorn Forest and the Ents, trees of all types, and his loyal horse Arod. He did not love them all in the same way, of course, it all of it was love nonetheless and it was a powerful emotion that Legolas knew he was blessed to feel so abundantly. Legolas cherished that kind of love. Legolas could _handle_ that kind of love.

Being _in love_ was an entirely different thing altogether. Being _in love_ required so much from a soul that it left it changed no matter what the outcome of that love was. The last time he'd let himself fall in love Legolas had forfeited everything that he previously was and had invested in building a different version of himself in the context of his relationship. When that failed so spectacularly he'd been left with the devastating task of taking the pieces that he had left and using them as a foundation to rebuild himself. Legolas had been _in love_ with Aragorn and when he was completely truthful with himself he had to acknowledge that a number of those feelings for that Man still lingered even when he had every reason to hate him – a testament to how powerful being in love was. Being _in love _petrified the elf more than he could say.

Now, after years of rebuilding himself to the point where he felt like a complete person at last, he was faced with the emotion of _in love_ once more. Could he ever be ready to fall in love again? It had been such a disaster the first time around; would he be able to survive it if it didn't work out again?

Maybe…maybe he was already in love with Eomer. In all of his musings Legolas hadn't failed to see that he was obsessing over the complications of being in love and if he was ready for it, not that he didn't feel it at all for the Man. True, the two of them had only been an official couple for a little over three months but then again that was about as much time as it had taken him and Aragorn to fall in love all those decades ago. In addition to that he and Eomer had been together as friends and parents for about four times that many months and it was clear now that their relationship had been progressively growing since the moment the king had pulled him off of Elfhelm's horse that first night in Edoras. There were many times as well when Legolas felt something in his heart and soul that gave him pause and made him happier than he'd been in a long time.

Did all of this amount to the elusive _in love_ feeling? Legolas couldn't figure out a way to answer that. All he knew for certain was that, for Eomer and Caladel's sakes as well as his own, he couldn't allow himself to feel it if it _was_ that until he knew that he was ready and he didn't yet know how he would be able to determine when that was.

'_Maybe I should just dump all of this in Eomer's lap,' _thought Legolas sardonically. _'If nothing else it might just make this whole situation go away. Eomer might be convinced to love me a little less if he saw how truly messed up I am.'_

It would certainly uncomplicated matters if he and Eomer could just go back to loving each other in that first, nice way. So why was that that every time he thought about how Eomer felt about him the elf felt a burst of bliss before the panic set in? Why did the mere thought of the Man not being in love with him anymore make him feel so miserable?

Legolas let out a deep cleansing breath, rested his hands on his chest, and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he could just clear his mind of all of the complicated emotions, both negative and positive, he could find a way to get a better grasp on the situation. Yes, what he needed was stillness both of the body and of the mind and he would know what he needed to do. If only there wasn't that part of him that didn't want to stop hearing Eomer whispering: _"I love you." "I love you." "I love you."..._

He had been like that for several minutes; flat on his back with his eyes closed and lying perfectly still when he heard the connecting door between his and Caladel's bedchambers creak open. What was his son doing out of bed already? They had a little while before they had to be awake! Legolas listened carefully to the almost non-existent sound of small feet tip-toeing across the floor toward his bed. A few seconds later the footsteps ceased and the elf felt eyes on him, studying him intently, right before the mild air hit his body. Caladel had pulled back the covers, he realized; and before he could ask what was going on he felt the pressure of something heavier than most objects climbing up into bed with him. The covers were then replaced and Caladel moved Legolas' hands so that he could wrap one of the arms around himself and snuggle his little body against his ada, resting his head on his chest as if he was listening to his heart beating.

Legolas cracked an eye open and peered down at his oblivious child. "Ion nin?" he whispered in a calm voice, not wanting to startle him.

Caladel's head instantly shot up at the sound of his ada's voice. "Ada?" he asked as if amazed.

"Who else would it be in my bed?" teased Legolas gently.

"No one – it's just," Caladel stammered for the right thing to say. "You're awake!"

Why did that seem to excite the boy so? "Yes, I'm awake; I was just lying here thinking," Legolas told him, not untruthfully. Caladel didn't need to know the details of what he'd been thinking about and be burdened by his father's dilemmas when it came to love. Elbereth, knowing the elfling he wouldn't stop worrying about it himself. "And I should be the one who's amazed that _you're _awake! Usually it's all I can do to drag you out of bed. What are you doing up so early?"

"You don't know?" asked Caladel slowly, as if he'd expected his father to already understand.

"No," replied Legolas honestly, sifting desperately through his memory to see if he'd forgotten anything important happening in his son's life that day. Did he have an important play date? Had he and Eomer promised the boy that they would ride out to the newly planted tree grove in the afternoon? Nothing was coming to mind, but then again he'd had so much on it lately that it would have been easy to omit something. Damn! How could he let his worrying lead to him neglecting his child? "Are you excited about something that's happening today?"

"I wasn't excited about anything," replied Caladel earnestly.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Legolas continued to inquire.

The boy stared at him with an odd expression on his face before smiling and snuggling back down against him. "I just wanted to be with you," he declared in a quiet voice.

"Well, I can't imagine a better way to start the day than this," proclaimed Legolas, drawing his son into a huge embrace, kissing the top of his head, and nuzzling his hair with his cheek. "But I'm afraid that all good things must come to an end. We both have to get ready before we're late."

"Where are we going?" Caladel seemed to be very confused and even a little alarmed.

"To the same place that we go to every morning: the dining hall to have breakfast with your papa," Legolas told him. He might have sounded like he was teasing him again if it hadn't been for the increasing concern in his tone. He placed a hand on Caladel's forehead and didn't feel any hint that the boy had a fever. "Are you feeling well? You're acting a bit strange this morning."

"I'm fine," Caladel assured him. Although Legolas couldn't help but believe him on that he wasn't totally convinced that there was nothing more to it.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"Good morning," greeted Eomer jovially as the dining hall door opened. He looked up and beheld an unexpected sight: it was Legolas and Caladel – which was not the unexpected part – but instead of bounding in on his own two feet as he normally did, the elfling was in his ada's arms. As if that wasn't enough, Caladel was clinging to Legolas like an extension of his body with his arms firmly around the elf's neck and his legs wrapped around his upper body. He couldn't help grinning. "What's this all about?"

Legolas dramatically hefted the load of child in his arms. "Our son insisted that I carry him all the day down here," he explained, shooting Caladel a wry half-smile as he gave the boy a big bear hug. "I see – or rather, I feel – that he's been doing some growing since the last time I carried him around like this for so long. What have we been feeding you, child?"

"Feeding me?" repeated Caladel. His eyes widened in realization and he began to squirm. "Put me down, Ada! I have to go talk to Fredwyn for a minute."

"All right," agreed Legolas, uncertain as to what triggered the sudden mood swing. He set him down and stared, perplexed, as Caladel took off like a shooting arrow. What in Middle-earth could possibly be so urgent? "But come back soon!" he could after him while the boy was still in earshot. "I don't want you bothering her while she'd cooking and running the kitchen!"

Eomer blinked as the door to the kitchen slammed shut. He looked across the table to where Legolas was sitting down. "I feel the need to repeat: what's this all about?" he inquired.

"I have no idea," replied Legolas, shaking his head. Eomer could tell that the elf was just as confused as he was and more than a little worried. "Something's gotten into him, that's for sure. He crawled into bed with me this morning _before he had to wake up_."

"A miracle," noted Eomer in astonishment, "or else a sign of the ending of the world."

"And that's not even all there is to it!" exclaimed Legolas. "He's been clinging to me so much since then. I had to pick him up and carry him all the way down here from our suite because he wouldn't let go of my leg. I don't understand – he had moments when all he wants to do is cuddle but he's never been this clingy before. I can't find a reason for it either – he doesn't appear to be ill and he keeps insisting that he's fine."

"That's strange," commented Eomer with a frown.

Before they could continue their discussion about their son's odd behavior, however, Caladel burst back into the dining hall, appearing decidedly more at peace than he had been when he left. Two harried-looking servants were at his heels, each carrying a tray with pastries, fruit, sausages, and drinks for breakfast. The boy wasted no time getting to the table (as he was wont to do when he was about to be fed) but instead of sliding into his usual place beside Legolas he scrambled into his ada's lap. The servants wordlessly set down his plate within reaching distance and handed him his fork before tending to the king and prince and leaving them to enjoy their meal.

There the child stayed, paying no heed to the concerned way that his parents' exchanged glances or the assessing looks that the servants gave the royal family before they departed, and did not move from his spot either during the meal or when the servants came back to clear away the empty plates and glasses at the end of breakfast. Through it all Caladel acted as if absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. Though his parents tried to get him to open up he deflected their questions and comments with a mixture of childlike charm and avoidance. In fact, his mood was such that had he not been sitting on Legolas' lap neither the elf nor Eomer would have thought that anything was wrong.

Only when it was time to leave did the boy slip more into the odd behavior that he'd been displaying earlier. "All right, Caladel," announced Legolas, patting his son on the back. "It's that time once again for tutors and classmates and all that. I can want you to your lesson if you want."

"No," said Caladel matter-of-factly.

"As you wish," said Legolas in a purposefully light tone. Maybe it had just been a phase, a short reprieve in which his son wanted to spend as much time as he could with him once more. He understood that Caladel was growing up and that he needed to let him do that; and most fathers probably didn't get to be a little spoiled by their son's unwavering attention and affections every once and awhile like he had been that morning. Still, it stung a bit when the boy asserted his independence so bluntly. "In that case you'd best hurry off or you're going to be late."

"I didn't mean that I don't want you to walk me there," Caladel told him, throwing his arms around his ada and holding him in a vice-like hug. "I meant no, you don't _have_ to walk me to my lessons because I'm not going to them today. I don't want to! I want to stay with you."

This was definitely not right. Caladel _always _looked forward to going to his lessons! Even if he didn't enjoy what was being taught itself there was not one tutoring session that he didn't have friends in. "I know that they can get a little boring at times, but they're important," Legolas said persuasively. "Besides, don't you want to see your friends?"

"I don't want them! I want you!" cried Caladel stubbornly, holding onto his ada tighter. "_Please_ don't make me go and leave you."

His plea broke Legolas' heart. "Oh Caladel, please tell me what's wrong!" he begged, rocking his son slightly just like he used to when he was crying as a baby or a toddler. "Your papa and I want so badly to help you but we can't do anything until we know what the problem is."

"Has someone been mean to you?" pressed Eomer as he walked around to the pair and placed soothing hands on the boy's back. He felt a bit ridiculous for getting so enraged at some phantom five-year-old who might be picking on his son but maybe there was something more sinister at the root of Caladel's behavior. It could be that the elfling was afraid of the tutor he had that day: perhaps the Man had been too cruel in his punishments or maybe (Eomer's mood darkened and he growled silently at the thought) he had taken certain _liberties_ with Caladel that no adult should take with a child. "Has anyone done anything to you to make you feel uncomfortable? You can tell us, my son. Even if you think – or someone told you – that we would get angry at you for telling us, we swear that we will not."

"It's none of those things, really," insisted Caladel, not letting go of Legolas. "I just think that Ada needs me more than I need to see my friends or go to some silly lesson."

"But I'm all right," Legolas told him. "If I'm the only reason why you don't want to go to your lessons then that's no excuse. Those lessons are very important. I don't understand, Caladel; you've always liked them before…"

As Legolas continued to coax Caladel into going to his lessons – a difficult feat, but he eventually managed to do so – Eomer quietly excused himself and walked to the door to the main corridor. Opening it he found the guards assigned to protect him, Legolas, and Caladel standing attentively at their duties. "Trumwine," he commanded, gesturing to Caladel's guard to come to him. The Man obeyed and leaned forward to hear his king's order. "You are to keep a very close eye on Lord Caladel today. That means going into his lesson instead of waiting outside – but make sure that your presence is unobtrusive, better yet unnoticed, so that you can observe things as they would be if you weren't in there. _Never_ let him out of your sight. Report back to the me and the prince about anything negative, like someone being cruel to him, or unusual, like someone paying him a little _too_ much attention; I don't care if you think it's minor, or maybe just your imagination, or something that happens to all children. Most importantly, pull him out of there at once if you even suspect that something destructive is happening to him."

"Has something happened already?" asked Trumwine in alarm.

"I can't say for certain," answered Eomer, letting a bit of his fear and frustration come through for a second as he glanced back at his child. He accidentally caught Legolas' eye as he hugged Caladel again and Eomer knew that his love understood what orders he was giving to the guard. "But he's definitely hiding _something_ and I want to know what it is."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eomer leaned back in his office chair, willing himself not to obsess over what was happening to Caladel. The guard would follow his instructions to the letter, he was sure, so the boy was safe in his charge. What he needed was a distraction that was almost as worrisome; something like…the sealed message that had been sitting on his desk since yesterday afternoon. One of the soldiers assigned to patrolling the southern border had delivered it, which confused Eomer as to why his soldiers were doing the job of another realm's messenger until he saw the familiar handwriting of the delivery instructions on the piece of parchment. He'd gratefully thanked the soldier for his quick thinking and set it aside, telling himself that he'd get to it – if he had the time – after he took care of Rohan's business but knowing that he really didn't want to read it.

Well, that would keep his mind off of other matters that he couldn't control yet. The Man summoned up all of his resolve, snatched the letter off of the desk, and broke the seal before he could talk himself out of doing it yet again. Very slowly he unfolded it and read:

_Friend Eomer,_

_Forgive me for not keeping in touch as of late. My only excuse is that the past year has been very eventful. The Valar have blessed me with my new daughter, Miriel, as you well know. I trust that the official card reached you, but I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you again for your congratulations and gift. She spoke her first word last month; which, I am pleased to announce, was 'dada'. She is truly her father's child and I could not love her more._

_Elladan and Elrohir (my foster brothers) have been in Minas Tirith since late last fall and will continue their visit until the end of the summer at the latest. They have promised my son that they will at least stay until his birthday celebration and I will see to it that they keep their word. You, of course, are invited to my Eldarion's party, as always; I know that you are a busy Man but I continue to hope that one year you will be able to find the time to attend._

_How have you been faring since our last correspondence? I inquired after you last week when I had the opportunity to dine with your sister and her husband. Eowyn informed me that she's found your last letters to her rather elusive but that she could tell that you were very happy. Faramir also mentioned to me on another occasion that he might be asking to take temporary leave of his duties as steward in the next few months so that he can accompany Eowyn on a visit to your fine country. Knowing how much you love your sister, I'm sure that you can't wait._

_The only other news on my end is no news, I'm afraid. Legolas is still missing and no one has yet to find any clues as to why he disappeared or where he might be. I refuse to give up on him, though, and continue to do what I am able to find him. If you hear or see anything, no matter how unlikely or ambiguous, please contact me immediately._

_Your friend and brethren-in-arms,_

_Aragorn_

Sighing, Eomer refolded the letter neatly and placed it back on his desk. It was nothing more than what he typically got from Aragorn; just a brief, friendly note, filled with pleasant news and ending with a plea for aid in the search for Legolas. Thankfully the king of Gondor hadn't had much time to write in the last year or so, as this note filled Eomer with so many mixed emotions that it was hard to see straight. Besides his obvious difficulties in communicating with Aragorn, it was particularly troubling in another way, as it told of a complicated matter to come: his sister and Faramir were planning a possible visit.

He'd never told Eowyn about Legolas and Caladel, not wanting to put her in the position of being torn between her loyalties to her brother; her loyalties to her husband who in turn owed his allegiance to the king of Gondor; and to her own loyalties to Aragorn, whom she admired even though she no longer felt any romantic feelings for him. His problem in doing this had apparently come through in his letters: pretty much all of his private life revolved around the elf and their son that he had to check himself to make sure that he didn't accidentally let something spill. Now his letters had been so mysterious that it made Eowyn very motivated to visit.

Eomer couldn't stop her from coming; nor did he want to, as he missed his beloved sister dearly and was eager to see if she was still as happy in her marriage to Faramir as she claimed to be. At the same time he wouldn't be able to hide the fact that Legolas and Caladel lived there once she arrived at Meduseld. Even if the two were to go to Fangorn or Eryn Lasgalan during her visit, it was too close: some clue would be left behind or someone would unintentionally let something slip. Things would get dicey if that happened because it would look as if Eomer had, at best, maliciously kept the truth from Aragorn, and, at worst, had been responsible for Legolas' disappearance in the first place, keeping the elf in Rohan for so long that he'd managed to brainwash his captive into thinking that he was staying there of his own will. It was the cold, liberating, frightening truth: they simply wouldn't be able to hide Legolas' whereabouts and Eomer's claims to be his child's sire for much longer.

The Man pinched the bridge of his nose as a knock sounded on his door. "Yes?" he called.

"It's Legolas," the elf answered from the other side. "May I ask you for a favor?"

"You can even come in and ask me for it face-to-face," replied Eomer with a smile, unable to worry about Aragorn, his sister, and secrets when he heard the voice of the one he loved so much. He quickly tucked Aragorn's letter under a pile of miscellaneous parchment as Legolas entered the office. With all that was going on with Caladel that day there would be no harm in delaying another source of stress until tomorrow. "Have a seat and tell me what I can do for you."

"I've been writing some letters to keep from driving myself crazy about what could be bothering Caladel," explained Legolas. Eomer had filled him in on the details of his commands to the boy's guard as soon as Caladel left with Trumwine to his lesson and Legolas had agreed that it was the best course of action to take. "Now I find myself in need of the services of a messenger."

"To Eryn Lasgalan?" questioned Eomer with a confused expression on his face. Even if he could talk one of his Men into going into the forbidding Woodland Realm there shouldn't have been a need for it. "But I thought that your father had someone whose main responsibility it was to keep the lines of communications between you open by carrying all of your messages. I mean, he's here so often that elf is practically a Rohirrim."

"They're not to Ada or anyone else in his realm," said Legolas, fingering the arms of the chairs anxiously. "They're for Merry, Sam, and Pippin in the Shire. The time has come for me to reconnect with the hobbits."

Eomer had not been expecting this. "Why?" he wondered aloud. Legolas looked slightly taken aback. "It's not that I'm not happy about it; it's just that you haven't initiated contact with anyone from your life before until now. What helped you make this decision now?"

"I've been thinking a lot lately about the people I care about," Legolas told him wistfully. "It's just that I lost so many years with all of them except Caladel and the Ents while I was hiding in Fangorn Forest and I don't want to lose any more. You've told me stories about them from time to time, especially about Merry, but those only make me miss them more. Now Frodo's gone forever before I got the chance to tell him how dear he was to me and I don't want that to happen with the other three."

"That's understandable," said Eomer. "I must admit that I was surprised when you didn't send word to them after you reconnected with your father."

"I didn't want to have to ask them to keep it a secret from Aragorn," explained Legolas sheepishly. "But the time has come for me to rebuild the bridges that I've burned."

The Man's eyes strayed for a second to a certain pile of parchment on his desk. "That means you're also going to have to tell Aragorn," he pointed out hopefully. The next few months would go so much better if Legolas was completely willing to reveal his whereabouts to the other king. "The hobbits won't be able to keep it a secret from him for long even if they tried. Are you ready for that?"

"No?" Legolas laughed a little. "But I'm not going to let that stop me from reclaiming my friends any longer. I'm going to ask the hobbits to let me tell Aragorn myself. With how long it will take for the messages to get to the Shire and how long it would take for any messages to be written and sent out from there to either me or Aragorn I guess I have about two months to find a way to tell Aragorn where I am and to do it."

"That's good," Eomer cleared his throat, deciding it would be all right to let him know his news now, "because I found out today that my sister is thinking about paying me a visit this summer."

Legolas smiled warmly at him. "Wonderful; I know how much you've missed her," he said sincerely. He would have to clear the air soon, then; he didn't want his issues interfering any more in Eomer's relationships as they had in his own. It was a horrible fate to inflict on anyone, especially one he cared so deeply (_'How deeply? In love deeply?'_) about.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Morning lessons had come and gone too slowly for the tastes of each member of the royal family but at last Caladel had been released to the dining hall to have lunch with his fathers'. While he again ate from Legolas' lap Eomer had taken Trumwine aside once more and asked for his report. He was both relieved and strangely disappointed when the guard informed him that nothing bad or unusual had happened to the boy, who'd acted distracted but otherwise all right during his lessons; at least now Eomer and Legolas had some reassurances about that, but it also meant that they were no closer to discovering the reason behind Caladel's out-of-character behavior. Reluctantly the king had gone back to work and the elfling in question had spent his lessons-free afternoon with his ada. In that time if Caladel wasn't on Legolas' lap he was never more than two steps away. The prince continued to try to get some explanation out of him but none was forthcoming. Legolas did notice, however, that in the last hour before dinner Caladel became increasingly bouncy.

Now as the family sat in the dining hall awaiting their food Caladel was back in his usual seat, squirming with a broad grin on his face. "Ion nin," Legolas tried once more. "Why have you been acting as you have been today?"

"I know something you don't know," squealed the boy excitedly. "It's a surprise!"

"What sur" –

"_Happy anniversary!"_

Eomer and Legolas whipped around to see Fredwyn and the kitchen staff pouring out into the dining hall, each with a tray laden with all the makings of a grand feast. "Anniversary?" repeated the Man.

"Yes!" nodded the cook enthusiastically as she set down her tray. She looked between her king and the two elves and beamed. "It's been one year to the day – well, it was night I suppose – that Prince Legolas and Lord Caladel came to Edoras. I can't believe that you two forgot; the lord certainly didn't! We had a big feast planned for breakfast but he came running in, asking that we wait until dinner for some reason."

"You didn't remember, Ada," explained Caladel. "The bad stuff that always makes you sick on this day each year, I mean. I thought that you were sick this morning until you started talking to me and that's when I knew you didn't remember and I didn't want to remind you in case it made you sick again. That's why I needed to be with you today, Ada: because you needed me to take care of you and make sure that the bad stuff didn't hurt you again."

Legolas was visibly shaking. It was six years to the day that he had to stand there and watch Aragorn marry Arwen. For the past five years he'd spent that awful anniversary in a senseless, grief-induced fit no matter how much he tried to ward it off and today it would have passed without him knowing it if he hadn't just been reminded. The grief of losing Aragorn no longer held such debilitating power over him and he understood why at last. "My goodness," he breathed.

Eomer rushed around the table, seized the elf's hands, and knelt before him. "What is it?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm better than all right!" proclaimed Legolas happily. "For the past five years I've been filled with so much grief and fear that this day always drove me into a fit like the one I was in last year but today those emotions have been tamed and held back by all the joy I've been given this last year. I have Ada and Gimli back in my life and am taking steps to get more friends back too. I have the people of Rohan all around me making me feel welcome, an archery class that gives me friendly companionship and a sense of usefulness, and a place to call home. I've seen my sweet Caladel grow so much into an even more remarkable person, with more people to love and be loved by in return as he finally got to take his place in the world outside of Fangorn Forest. And I have you, Eomer; the strong, kind, wise, handsome, and attentive Man who accepts me, helps me grow stronger by both supporting and challenging me, and loves me."

"You know…you know that I'm in love with you?" asked Eomer in shock before realization set in. "You _heard_ me."

"I know and I heard," confirmed Legolas, almost bursting with his emotions and certainty. "Now it's time for you to know and hear that I feel the same way about you. I love you, Eomer; I am in love with you."

To be continued…

_A/N: Last chapter saw this story's 400th review (and beyond). Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to give me feedback!_


	30. Ready for your love

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from the song Here I Am by Sertab. Thank you to reviewer kana, who brought it to my attention. Here it is:_

_**Something calling from deep inside me**_

_A voice I knew but I could not hear_

_For so long I have tried to hide me_

_Couldn't see that you were so near_

_**You know me you show me**_

_Everything that I really am and_

_You saved me you gave me_

_Strength enough to say_

_**Chorus: Here I am**_

_Ready for your love here I am_

_I'll never run away_

_I have made my connection_

_Seen my reflection in you_

_So here I am_

_**Living under a lonely shadow**_

_I have seen from the other side_

_Hope will shine from a single candle_

_Leaving all of the pain behind_

_**It's our way a new day**_

_Living in the here and now and_

_The living I'm feeling_

_Strong enough to say_

_**Chorus**_

_**Never leave me**_

_You complete me_

_I finally know who I love_

_I love you_

_I love you_

One evening, soon before Legolas was to walk him to the front steps of Meduseld to meet up with his friend Bedric and the boy's parents, Caladel sat in the middle of his ada's bed. All of the things he would need for his overnight were already tied up in a pack and set down by the suite door so that neither of them would forget it, so he had the time to leisurely look through the picture book from Eryn Lasgalan that he got for Solstice/Yule. Well, that's what Caladel was _trying _to do, at any rate; but what he really ended up doing was blindly flipping through the pages while trying not to stare at his ada.

Caladel had never seen Legolas acting quite like this before; not when they started living in Edoras, not when he saw Gimli or Grandfather Thranduil again, not when he and Eomer decided to become romantically involved, not even in the past few weeks when the couple started telling each other "I love you". The elf was scurrying all over the bedchamber, acting joyful, nervous, stressed, jumpy, and elated all at once. Before now the boy would have sworn to anybody that his ada was the stillest, calmest person ever; but that person was apparently temporarily gone and replaced with someone who couldn't stay in one place for a second. "Ada?" the child asked, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Yes, Caladel?" responded Legolas distractedly as he ransacked the top of his bureau.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" questioned Caladel uncertainly, not sure if maybe the best help of all would be to stay out of his way. "You're acting kind of strange."

"I'm sorry; I'm just a little preoccupied right now," said Legolas. He threw his hands up in the air when his frantic search yielded no results. "Ion nin, do you have any idea where the ties for my braids are? I could have sworn that I left them right here but I can't find them anywhere."

"They're in my bedchamber," answered Caladel, nodding to the door that led into there. "You left them in them on my bureau last week after I used them to put the braids into Bedric's hair."

"Ah yes, now I remember," said Legolas knowingly as he headed at once into the chamber in question. Elbereth, he must really be off in a world of his own if he managed to forget _that _little incident. After all, his ears were still ringing from the screams and cried that had emanated from his son's squirming best friend when he removed the elvish warrior braids after Caladel had basically turned his hair into a gigantic nest of knots while putting them in. Oh well; at least he knew that he wasn't completely losing his mind – he was searching on the right piece of furniture, only in the wrong location.

Abandoning the pretense that he was doing anything else but watching his father, Caladel shut his book. "Why do you need them at all?" he called, straining to look around the doorframe at Legolas. "Your hair is already braided and everything."

"Yes, but I'm going to braid it again," replied Legolas as he finally found the elusive ties under a pile of tunics that really needed to be put in their proper place. "I want it to look extra-nice tonight."

"But what's wrong with the ties that you already have?" persisted Caladel out of curiosity rather than rudeness. Honestly, his ada had been acting in the weirdest ways at times ever since the boy's birthday party!

"I've been wearing them all day and they're not fresh," explained Legolas, aware of how illogical it sounded but too nervous to care. He wanted everything to be perfect that evening, down to the smallest detail and if he had to give up making sense to have that happen, so be it. "Now, are you all ready to go? I have to meet your papa right after Bedric's parents come and pick you up and we need to be right on schedule. Tonight is gong to be a very special night, Caladel."

Both Legolas and Eomer had been saying things like that all day and Caladel didn't understand it any better now than he did that morning when he overheard his papa whispering it to himself. What was so special about that night that made it any different than any other of his parents' evenings alone together? It couldn't have anything to do with the hobbits – it was yet too soon for them to arrive and although his ada had told him that he had told them that they didn't have to come if they didn't want to see him and so not to expect them Caladel knew that they would be on their way as soon as possible. After all, Gimli had come without anyone asking and so had his grandfather; so why would it be any different with Sam, Merry, and Pippin? It was equally unlikely that Thranduil or Gimli were coming either because someone would have told him and his parents wouldn't be letting him spend the night somewhere else.

So the something special _had _to be between his ada and papa but Caladel was still at a loss to find an explanation that made sense. It had been a few weeks since the couple had started saying out loud that they loved each other so they couldn't be celebrating that. Privately the boy wondered why everyone else was making such a big deal out of those three little words – he already knew that his fathers loved each other, so why what did it matter if now everyone got to hear about it? Deep down – although he was ashamed to admit it – Caladel knew that a part of the reason why he wasn't as excited as other people about this was because he was a little bit jealous at how much he had to share his ada's attention with his papa now.

Still, he wanted his parents to be happy and together and he refused to let a little jealousy mess that up. He was determined to be a good boy; even though he didn't understand why, this night was important to both Legolas and Eomer and he was more than willing to help in any way that he could to make it as memorable as possible. "Why don't you wear your hair loose?" he suggested as his ada came back into the chamber with the ties twisted throughout his fingers. "You never have it like that, so wouldn't that be special?"

"True, but it's not going to happen," Legolas assured him with a meaningful smile. To him wearing his hair loose was a symbol of weakness and defeat. That's the way that he'd felt all those years ago in Minas Tirith, but tonight was about as opposite to that time in his life as it got. Tonight was happening because he'd been strong enough to survive his grief, open enough to be willing to love again, joyful at the success of his new relationship, and hopeful for what lay ahead for them. "I did it once but having it down will never suit me again. Besides, Eomer knows that I don't like it that way and you know that he wouldn't want to see it if he knew it makes me unhappy."

"All right," said Caladel in a tone that made it clear that he thought that Legolas was being stubborn, but he seemed content to leave it at that and not argue with him any further.

Instead he opted to watch his ada as Legolas quickly unbound his blonde locks, running the comb through it before he began to carefully weave his braids again. He was singing as well, and it wasn't an elvish song in his native tongue or one of the Rohirric tunes that Caladel had heard before: rather it was a silly little song about drinking in the lair of a green dragon. "You're very happy tonight, aren't you?" the boy observed.

Legolas turned to face him, showing him his wide and silly grin. "That I am," he agreed wholeheartedly. "And why should I be? I have you, I have Eomer, I have my wonderful life, and I have tonight. It's a very" –

"Special night, I know," Caladel finished for him, pouting a little as he realized how left out he was feeling. His fathers obviously had some sort of secret; why couldn't he know it too? "But how come? I know I'm not invited tonight or anything but if it's all right I'd like to know what's going on."

The sulk that was evident in his son's voice made Legolas pause as he was setting his comb aside. "Oh Caladel," he said, suddenly feeling very guilty.

"I'm sorry," said the boy quickly, misinterpreting his father's tone. "It's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."

"No you shouldn't have, because I should have told you before you had the chance to," Legolas told him. The elf walked across the chamber, sat down on the bed next to his son, and pulled the boy onto his lap and into his arms. "I'm so sorry I've been so secretive lately. You know that I love you more than anything, right?"

"Yes," replied Caladel, snuggling against him. It was nice to be reminded of that every once and awhile, though.

"After I pick you up tomorrow you and I are going to do something special, whatever you want, just the two of us," promised Legolas. "And right now I'm going to do what I should have done days ago and tell you why tonight's so special. Don't tell anyone else, though! Not even your papa knows yet."

"Really?" asked Caladel, intrigued, as his face brightened instantly.

Legolas nodded. "Really; it's a surprise," he said, placing a hushing finger against his lips. He leaned in and winked conspiratorially at his son. "Your papa likes to think that he's the one who's got everything planned tonight, but there's no way he could know what I've got up my sleeve. Are you _sure_ that you want to know?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" begged Caladel as he bounced in his ada's arms. He half-knew that Legolas was just teasing him, but better safe than sorry. "Please tell me, Ada! I swear I won't tell anybody!"

The elf prince knew that he meant that with all of his heart and was more than happy to share; especially since if his life as of late hadn't been a whirlwind of good and bad emotions, shifting circumstances, and anticipation he might have been thinking clearly enough to discuss what was going to happen that evening with Caladel. By dawn's light the next day all of their lives would (hopefully) be changing once more and the child had the right to know what was coming. Still, late was better than never and the two of them now had most of tomorrow set aside for some ada-and-son time when they could discuss it in more depth then.

Sliding a little up to the head of the bed Legolas leaned over, grasping the handle to the drawer on his night-table and pulling it open. He cursed under his breath when he had to pull the blasted thing almost completely out so that he could pick up what he was looking for without dislodging his son. There inside, tucked away in the back corner, was the small box that contained Thranduil's second Solstice present to him, the one that Legolas had opened privately and refused to show anyone else.

Legolas held it for a moment, taking a brief moment to muse on the blessed irony of the situation. He'd essentially hidden the gift away in December and then, for the most part, pointedly ignored it. Back then he couldn't imagine ever wanting it around but now he had need for it. All the annoyance that Legolas had once had at his father's assumptions and intrusions into his personal life were all but gone now that the time had come and the young elf was just grateful that he wouldn't have to wait while he sent out a letter asking for it. _'Perhaps,' _he thought, _'Ada possesses the gift of foresight after all.'_

"I'm going to give our papa _this_," he announced, pulling open the lid and holding the box so that the boy could see inside.

"Ooooh, it's very pretty," declared Caladel. He plucked up the tiny object and examined it carefully. "Is this the one that belongs to Grandfather?"

"No, your grandfather would never part with that and I wouldn't ask him for it," Legolas shook his head. "But you're on the right track. It does look a lot like that one, and there's a very good reason why that is. Did he ever tell you the story of his?"

"Yes, it's" – Caladel's eyes got very wide. "And this is like that one?" Legolas nodded excitedly. "And it's for Papa?" His father nodded again as he tightened his arms around the elfling. "Ai Elbereth! Does this mean what I think it means?"

Legolas rested his cheek against the top of Caladel's head and sent a quiet prayer to the Valar. "I hope so," he said. "I hope so."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eomer was very happy to see that there was a spring in Legolas' step as the couple left the dining hall. "That had to be the best dinner we've had yet," the elf enthused. "I don't know how the kitchen staff keeps doing it, but I'm certainly glad that they do."

The Man grinned at him before taking one of his hands, raising it up over his head, and spinning him around. Legolas laughed, making no effort to control where the tight turns were taking him. He turned closer and close to Eomer until he came to an abrupt stop against the king's body. "And the dancing wasn't half-bad either," he continued as he put his hand on Eomer's waist and led them in a few steps. "We've got an interesting style about us, Eomer."

"I'll second that," agreed Eomer with a chuckle, grabbing the hand on his waist and holding it while he moved them both around in a very informal dance that served a double purpose: so that no one could claim to be leading, and to cunningly guide his love down the corridor to their destination. "Did you see the look on our good lute player's face at the end of the second song?"

"The poor thing was positively scandalized!" said Legolas in a mock disapproving tone. "Honestly, he needs to get out more often – by the way he reacted one would think that no one's ever dipped the king of Rohan before."

"I don't think that the dipping was the problem," bantered Eomer merrily. He halted them both and put his hands on the elf's shoulders. They stayed like that for a moment as a thoughtful look crossed his face; for a moment he was too caught up in looking at Legolas and marveling to himself that someone so amazing could be in love with him. Then, remembering what he was in the middle of, Eomer let the hands slide down to settle on the elf's biceps and gave them an appraising squeeze as he smiled and tsked. "I think that he was just in shock that such a slender creature like yourself had strength enough to support my firm and solid bulk for so long."

"Firm and solid bulk, huh? Tread carefully, Eomer," warned Legolas, getting nose-to-nose with him. He bent his head slightly as if considering but really to move into a position where all one of them had to do in order to kiss was simply lean in a fraction of an inch. "All we elves are lacking is that bulk; that's why elves are dangerous people. Our enemies can't readily see our strength; then they make the mistake of underestimating us and so are brought to their knees. You would do well to learn from their mistakes – unless you want me to bring you to your knees too."

Eomer's breath caught in the back of his throat. Unable to resist any longer he filled in the very tiny space between their mouths and claimed Legolas' lips in a sweet kiss. "You've already brought me to my knees," he murmured thickly. Their lips met again briefly as the Man brought up one of his hands to caress the prince's cheek. "Now, how do I say it again? That's right: amin mela lle."

"That's very good, melethnin," said Legolas in a soft but desiring voice as he pulled Eomer into another, more flirtatious kiss. The Man's accent didn't really suit the poetic language that was Sindarin but all of his pronunciations were dead-on and Legolas was moved more than he could ever express to realize how much his love had been practicing that particular elvish phrase. "I love you too."

"And 'melethnin' means 'my beloved', correct?" checked Eomer ever so studiously. The elf nodded and leaned in closer to kiss him again, but he subtly pulled his head back just out of range. Legolas gave him a pointed Look and Eomer smiled innocently. "What? I only wanted to tell you how beautiful I find your language to be. I love how that phrases just rolls off of the tongue, don't you? Melethnin, melethnin, melethnin, melethnin…"

He came closer and closer with each 'melethnin' until he was practically kissing Legolas with the word. It was all a part of something of a competition between the couple: one of them would do everything in his power to charm the other until that person was so enamored that he had to initiate a kiss or else go mad. The best part of it was that no matter who proved to be the victor of the match they both won. Usually, Legolas' competitive nature would have driven him to think of some way to best Eomer but at that point all he wanted to do was give in.

Unwilling to restrain himself any longer, Legolas seized Eomer by the back of his head and pulled him into a deep, searing kiss that left them both panting for air. "This has been one of the most romantic evenings of my life," declared the elf emphatically. "A moonlit walk, dancing away the night before having a delicious late dinner, and now I am most fortunate to have one of the best kissers in Middle-earth going to such extraordinary lengths to get me a kiss him."

"_One_ of the best?" demanded Eomer as if outraged and deeply offended. He put his arms all the way around Legolas, trapping him completely in an embrace as he pulled him flush against his body. "I'll show you who's only _one_ of the best." And he poured all of his love and yearnings into another kiss. Legolas moaned appreciatively and the Man took advantage of the opportunity, sliding his tongue into the open mouth and laying claim to it through its explorations.

Legolas allowed himself the sheer pleasure of submitting to Eomer's ministrations for several moments. Then the innate pride that came along with being the son-of-Thranduil-son-of-Oropher kicked in and he grew more aggressive, moving his tongue to vie with Eomer's for dominance. It was a grueling struggle, as neither one of them could let the other just _win _like that without a fight; but when they finally broke apart for want of breath it was Eomer who staggered. "Well?" the Man gasped.

"I still say _one _of the best," affirmed Legolas in a teasingly scolding tone. "I just collected all of the proof that I needed now that I am also ranked at the top of that list. Since I cannot exactly find a way to see how the two of us compare to each other you'll simply have to be content with sharing that title with me." His glanced away from his love and down the corridor; and when he looked up again at Eomer there was a new seriousness in his expression. "You obviously have something in mind about where we're going to now."

"To the study," confirmed Eomer, reluctantly pulling himself away from Legolas so that the two of them could continue on their way. "I thought that it would be nice if we went somewhere private. It's a nice place to just sit and talk, don't you think?"

He was trying to be casual but in fact Eomer had put in an embarrassing amount of effort in figuring out the perfect place where he and Legolas could finish out their evening. He needed it to have a high measure of privacy, which ruling out most of Meduseld except the royal quarters, but not too personal, which ruled out most of the royal quarters too. The Man had actually considered making his bedchamber the setting for the latter part of the evening, as he wanted _complete_ privacy, but nixed that idea in the end for fear that Legolas would get the wrong idea about his expectations and intentions. Eventually he'd come up with the idea of going to the study. It was the perfect alternative: the two of them and their son had spent a lot of family time there so it was personal; the guards had no excuses from walking in and out of there at will so it was private, and it didn't have a bed in it, and along with that atmosphere of pressure and tension that retreating to one of their bedchambers would bring, so it was safe; in other words, the perfect place for him to do what he'd been planning to do for awhile.

At times like that Legolas was really appreciated Eomer's thoughtfulness and attention to detail: he himself had been so caught up in the surprise he was planning for the Man that he hadn't given any consideration to _where_ he should spring it. "It's like you're reading my mind," he noted with an understated excitement as he felt the anticipation well up within him. "A little privacy for that would be wonderful; there's something that I've been wanting to talk to you about."

"And I you," countered Eomer mysteriously as they arrived at last to the study door. He went to open it but then hesitated. "Legolas, will you do something for me?"

"Name it," answered Legolas without any qualms.

"Close your eyes," requested Eomer. "I have something special set up in there and I want to make sure that you see it all at once, not just a little bit at a time."

The elf raised his eyebrows in teasing suspicion but then complied with his love's wishes. After all, he trusted Eomer with his heart and his child; why shouldn't he be able to trust him like this as well? The sound of the door opening up creaked loudly in Legolas' ears, almost as loud as the beating of his heart, and he felt tender hands guiding him into place. Legolas was about to ask Eomer if he could look yet when he sensed the Man walking around to stand behind him – right before those tender hands came up to cover his already-closed eyes. "Eomer!" scolded Legolas, playfully exasperated.

"I'm just making sure that you don't 'accidentally' peek," explained Eomer. Legolas didn't need to see in order to know that his companion was smiling. "Don't think that I don't know where our son gets _that _from."

"I spy on you once when I wanted to know what you were planning for Caladel's birthday and I'm branded as a bad influence for life," complained Legolas. Eomer didn't respond as he used his arms and body to gently steer the elf into the study and then used his foot to close the door behind them. With as much patience as his excitement would let him possess Legolas waited until they'd stopped again to ask: "Can I look now?"

"Yes, open your eyes," instructed Eomer, removing his hands as Legolas' eyelids flew open.

The prince was almost stunned speechless at what he beheld. "Eomer," he gasped, in awe at how beautiful the chamber looked. There were candles everywhere with flickering flames, bathing the study in a soft, romantic light. A fire was burning in the fireplace just enough to give the sofa near it some extra light without making it unbearably hot in there. The Man had obviously put careful thought into the smallest detail of the set-up. "It's beautiful."

"Well, I had to find _some _way to outdo myself – and you've already seen some of my best stuff," joked Eomer. His expression softened as he took the elf's hand and led him to the illuminated sofa. "And you deserve nothing but the best," he added as he sat down. "So, you have something to tell me?"

"Well, yes, but so did you," protested Legolas as he settled into his place at Eomer's side. "You should go first, what with all the effort you went to in order to make this place look so lovely."

"I insist that you start," said Eomer graciously, but with a hidden agenda: he didn't want anything else to be on Legolas' mind when he said what he was dying to say.

Legolas, oblivious to this, sucked in a deep breath to chase away the last-minute butterflies in his stomach and smiled brilliantly at him. "I have something to give you, if you'll accept it," he said, reaching into his pocket and shivering a bit when his fingers brushed against the gift. He pulled out the object that he'd showed his son earlier and held it up for the Man to see.

Eomer stared in wonder at it: a ring, made of what looked to be mithril and adorned with a subtle and delicate, yet intricate, design. There was something vaguely familiar about it and after a moment or two of contemplation he placed it. "Is that your father's ring?" he asked. "The one that he wears on a chain around his neck? I remember it from our visit to Eryn Lasgalan."

"No, but it's very much like it," replied Legolas. He was almost shaking with anxiousness and about to float away with elation at the same time. It was an odd feeling, really, but one that he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. "That one belonged to my mother. You see, when a member of the royal family of Eryn Lasgalan – or Greenwood, as it was called back when he gave it to her – finds the one person that they wish to spend the rest of their days on Middle-earth and beyond with, they give that person a ring like this. The design represents the coming together of two lives and it's always made of mithril to show how their love will never dim or tarnish."

"It's exquisite," breathed Eomer, his heart beginning to race. "How long have you had it?"

"Oh, it's never made until the royal in question has met his or her love – that way it can be designed and made to fit the recipient's finger," explained Legolas, unconsciously glancing down at Eomer's fingers. "Ada had the smiths make it after our visit last fall to fit _your_ finger. He then sent it to me as a Solstice present – the one that I opened early, remember?"

"He – he did that?" asked Eomer shakily. Strange – he'd always gotten the impression that Thranduil hadn't been too pleased with his role in his son and grandson's life. To find out that he approved so much was almost overwhelming…

"At the time I must admit that I resented how I thought he was pushing me into a more – _respectable_ – living arrangement," confessed Legolas, his cheeks burning a little. "But I've never been good at acknowledging how I feel about someone even when the rest of the world already knows it. But I know now that I love you with all that I am and ever will be," he added, taking Eomer's slightly trembling hands into his own, "and I know that I want to give this ring to you. Eomer, will you marry me?"

Eomer's mouth dropped open in shock; but he wasn't so stunned that he couldn't nod his head. "Yes," he got out without breaking down in tears of joy. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, _yes_! There's nothing that I want more than to marry you."

Legolas let out a laugh as tears of his own welled up in his eyes. He grabbed Eomer's face and planted a hard, enthusiastic kiss on his lips. "That's the answer I was hoping for," he beamed in relief. He went to lift up the Man's hand but then stopped. "The people of Eryn Lasgalan wear their marriage rings from the moment that they get engaged. Does Rohan have any traditions about that or what finger the ring is supposed to go on?"

"For the duration of the engagement it goes on the fourth finger of the right hand," Eomer told him, a warm glow surrounding his heart as Legolas proceeded to take his right hand and slide the ring on the proper finger. "We move it to the left hand, same finger, at the ceremony when we get married."

A huge grin split his face. "When we get married," he repeated. "You have no idea how much I love saying those words! We're getting married! Oh, now I'm not nearly as nervous about what I want to talk to you about as I was before."

"Is that right?" purred Legolas as he kissed both the ring and the finger that it was on. The ring – the ring he'd just given him – the ring that meant that they would be getting married and spending the rest of their lives together…. "And now I'm even more curious about it. Start talking, my dear fiancé."

"I think it would be better if I showed you first," replied Eomer, almost bursting with excitement and joy. With a huge smile he reached into a pocket that sat on the inside of his tunic by his heart and pulled out a ring of his own.

Legolas gaped at it. It was made of wood that had been polished up to be as smooth, glistening, and lovely as any metal; and on it was carved a gorgeous leaf design. It struck the prince as a Rohirric interpretation of an elvish ring, taking elements of both of the realms that he loved to create something utterly unique and completely appropriate for him. "Is that" – he stammered. "Is that what I think" –

"There's a tradition in Rohan," Eomer told him, holding up the ring so that it was at eye level with his new fiancé. "When someone get ready to ask the person that he loves to spend the rest of their lives together he makes a ring, or has one made if he doesn't possess the skill. The ring – and this is important – must be made with that person and that person alone in mind. That's why there are so many leaves: I made a list of all of the things that you love, and trees and things that grow were on the top of it. Well, it was next to archery, but a bow-and-arrow motif seemed a little inappropriate for this."

"Look," he continued, keeping the tip of one finger in the ring as he handed it over to Legolas so that he could run in along the inside. The elf peered at the underside of the ring and felt his heart swell when he spotted the neatly carved 'L.E.' "I had our initials put on there to symbolize the union that I want to form with you; and opposite that" – Legolas turned the ring accordingly and felt an indescribably delirious sort of happiness when he saw a corresponding carving of 'L.E.C.' – "is for the family that we already have. You have made me the happiest and most blessed Man in Middle-earth, Legolas; and I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life tying to make you just as happy if you let me. Will _you _marry _me_?"

"I'll have to think about it," whispered Legolas.

A blank, uncomprehending look crossed Eomer's face; then he smiled and let out a long breath when the elf laughed. "Of course I'll marry you," cheered Legolas.

"Don't tease me like that!" scolded Eomer, but he was chuckling too. He could feel the tension around them dissipating and besides, it was hard to get exasperated when one of his fondest dreams had just come true. "Now, where do your people wear the ring during the engagement?"

"Put it on the fourth finger of the right hand, same as you," instructed Legolas, holding out the hand in question. "I am marrying the king of Rohan and it's an honor to follow Rohan's ring tradition." He drew in a shuddering breath as he felt the coolness of the wood slide down his finger. "I love you so much, Eomer."

"I love you too – amin mela lle," added Eomer as their lips joined. Legolas shifted until he was pressed against the Man. Eomer ran his hands up the elf's back and carefully lay down until he on his back with Legolas on top of him. Words didn't matter at that point – all that they cared about was kissing, tasting, and touching each other. That night they brought each other to their peaks several times; Legolas had never felt so close and intimate with his fiancé before – perhaps with _anyone_ before. What made it even more exciting was that he knew that it was but a taste of what was to come, on their wedding night when he and Eomer would finally give one another all of their bodies to love.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It was getting very late when a sated Eomer and Legolas lay together on the sofa, the Man's back propped up against one end and the elf curled up against him. They would have to leave soon to get some sleep but right then neither of them could find it in their hearts to leave. Legolas was holding their ring fingers together, admiring how the wood and mithril looked oddly perfect together. After a minute he gently put down Eomer's hand and put his own left hand in its place, resting the ring fingers together with the right-hand one on top.

Eomer smiled serenely at this gesture, for he knew what Legolas was thinking. "I can't want to see that ring on your left hand too," he said lovingly. "And to feel my ring on my marriage hand."

"I don't want the summer to end without me becoming your husband," declared Legolas softly.

"Do you really mean that?" asked Eomer.

Legolas straightened up so that he could look the Man in the eyes. "With all of my heart," he affirmed. His mind began to race as all that they would have to do before then came rushing to him. "There's a lot we need to do, then – invitations, planning the ceremony, the reception; we'll have to send word to my father, Gimli, and your sister; oh, how I wish now that I'd asked the hobbits to come visit so that they could be here too!"

"They'll come whether or not you told them that they didn't have to," Eomer reassured him. His comforting expression faded and was replaced with something more troubled but resolute. "That doesn't give us a lot of time – maybe it can be the last invitation that we send – but still" – he sighed and let his head fall back against the sofa arm. "I am a king, my love, and who I'm marrying will be the business of more people that just those who dwell in Rohan."

"I know," said Legolas solemnly, his heart pounding in his ears. Why did _this_ always seem to be hanging around, waiting to mar whatever joy he found with Eomer? "I guess there's something that will have to be done before the wedding, then..."

To be continued…


	31. Long after the thrill of living is gone

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from the song Jack and Diane by John Mellencamp. Here's a part of it:_

_So let it rock  
Let it roll  
Let the Bible Belt come  
And save my soul  
Hold on to sixteen as long as you can  
Changes come around real soon  
Make us women and men _

**Chorus: **Oh yeah, life goes on  
Long after the thrill of livin' is gone  
Oh yeah, I say, life goes on

_Long after the thrill of livin' is gone_

"It's beautiful outside today," said Aragorn one morning in the dining hall of the citadel.

"Oh, yes," agreed Arwen with a happy smile as she placed some more strawberries on her plate. "The weather seems to be staying nice. I'm so glad that all of that humidity cleared up before Eldarion's birthday; although I can't say that I'm completely hoping that it will stay this way. If it starts getting all muggy and hot again going into July you two will be more inclined to stay until fall when the weather gets cooler again, will you not my dear brothers?"

"We will stay here for as long as you think that you need our company, Arwen," Elladan promised his sister as he sent a discreet but pointed look Aragorn's way. Despite the guilt that he still felt about the pressures he'd helped put on the Man as a child Elladan had invested too much of himself into being angry with him to just put it aside. Arwen had nothing to do with how Estel was brought up, he told himself repeatedly, and she didn't deserve to be at the receiving end of his quiet resentment.

Aragorn stirred restlessly under his foster brother's glare. He didn't feel like enduring his silent accusations anymore that morning; nor did he desire to sit there quietly while Elladan fussed over and coddled Arwen every time she asked them to stay longer. Did he honestly think that there was anything more to her requests than her innocent selfish belief that the lives of the people that she loved could actually revolve around her? Besides, the children had already gone to their lessons and he had consumed his food in all of five minutes – there was no reason why he should have to stay any longer. "I'm going out," he announced abruptly, practically leaping out of his seat. "I feel like taking a little walk through the city's gardens. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"Have a pleasant walk, my love," Arwen called after him, getting out the last words just in time before he exited and closed the heavy door behind him.

She was not alarmed by her husband's curt declaration and found nothing suspicious or unusual about his hasty retreat. Aragorn always got like this during the summer, especially around this time of it: restless, preoccupied, and noticeably distracted. Arwen had witnessed this throughout all her years of marriage and had long ago simply assumed that it was at this time of year that her husband missed his life as a ranger the most. High white walls and the life of the formal court of Gondor never really suited Aragorn's personality well. Oh, he tolerated and endured them as best he could for the sake of Gondor and its people but he would never truly love them. In his heart the Man longed for the feel of wild land beneath his feet and wished that he had the freedom to do what he wanted, if only for a little while.

Arwen was only half-correct in her reasoning, although she probably could have easily figured out a little bit more if she had just endured her own pain long enough to really contemplate it. It was true that Aragorn felt more stifled and confined by the prison that most aspects of his life had become when the lands became sunny and warm, but he could do without being a ranger again. It annoyed him at times how his wife romanticized his decades of lonely wandering, hungry days, sleepless nights, and constant apprehension about the servants of the Enemy. No; if Aragorn had his choice he would be neither ranger nor king, but a simple Man living in a peaceful realm, having enough to be comfortable, the freedom to come and go as he pleased, and Legolas always by his side. In that was the true reason why the Man got so melancholy and distracted at that time of year: it was during the summer that he missed Legolas the most.

Summer, while always a meaningful time in their relationship, had become all the more significant ever since the elf vanished. It was around that time of year that Aragorn had laid eyes on his true love – _'for now; only for now, because you will find him again,'_ he told himself – and so somehow in his mind became the time that he imagined that Legolas would come back. Aragorn let out a long sigh as he stepped into one of Minas Tirith's most lovely gardens; it was six years since Legolas had last walked through that place and he found it easy to imagine the prince suddenly appearing there again, running through the trees and not stopping until he was back in the Man's arms.

It would only be fitting, as they had never before spent more than one summer together. The two had met again in Mirkwood when he'd delivered Gollum there in the season's dying days but he hadn't stayed for even a night before he had to leave again. Their true reunion hadn't happened until the night before the Council of Elrond and by then it had already been fall. Then they had set out with Fellowship during the winter, rekindled their romance in the time between winter and spring, and had been torn apart once more before the summer season had started. That was a tragedy in and of itself in Aragorn's mind, for it was during the summer that he and Legolas had met for the very first time.

_O – Flashback – O_

_Estel Elrondion – not Aragorn son of Arathorn, along with all the other names and painful burdens that went with that moniker, quite yet – rode cautiously through the forest of Mirkwood. He was flanked by two wood-elves who had met him at the forest's borders where he'd bidden his brothers a difficult goodbye but their presence didn't comfort him or make him feel any safer. Not for the first time he wondered what his father could have been thinking when he'd decided that his mortal son should have to spend the summer in the Woodland Realm. While it seemed as of late that nothing that he did was good enough to live up to Elrond's stringent expectations – a fact that pained Estel greatly, though he didn't know how to remedy it – exiling him to a land where it felt like so many different things were hovering around, happy to kill him at a moment's notice, seemed like a cruel punishment to dole out because of it._

_Dark, sinister whispers suddenly hissed all around him and Estel couldn't help but feel like it was all threats, all directed at him. For the first time in his life he could hear the trees communicate with each other and while the experience left him awestruck it also scared him to his core, for now he could hear how much they disliked his kind for what they deemed as Man's reckless destruction of the forests of Middle-earth. Or maybe the hisses weren't coming from the trees at all but from the creatures that lived within. They were passing by remnants of gigantic spider webs and these, along with the occasional strange track and what looked like the burnt remains of part of an oversized arachnid, led him to believe that Elladan and Elrohir had not been exaggerating as much as he'd originally thought when they had told him tales about the size of Mirkwood's spiders._

_Perhaps none of this would bother him so much if it was his brave, supportive brothers who were making the final part of his journey with him. Why had their father deemed that they should turn back at the edge of the forest once Estel was safely with the wood-elves? Why had the twins readily accepted that without so much as an argument or a plan hatched to defy Elrond without the elf lord knowing it? Now that the young Man thought about it, his brothers had been acting…stricter as of late. They would quietly defend him to Elrond when Estel failed to live up to expectations, but then take him aside and explain to him that he needed to work harder, always harder. Maybe they were disappointed in him too, and that's why they left him with the two wood-elves._

_Most uncomfortable of all was the way that Estel could practically feel the disdain that his new travel companions had for him. He'd been warned not to expect an exceptionally warm welcome, but never anything to this extent. The two wood-elves apparently hated having a Man in their land as much as said Man hated being there. Estel drew in a sharp breath when the whispers got particularly loud and then groaned inwardly when the expression on his companions' face grew even more unpleasant. Honestly, what had been so bad about his archery skills that his father had decided that he _had_ to come to that horrible place for special lessons?_

"_Uh, I beg your pardon," Estel cleared his throat, timidly looking back and forth between the two elves. They both looked back at him with one eyebrow each perfectly arched up to let him know that he was disturbing them. It would have seemed quite comical if the young Man hadn't been in such a dour mood. "I'm sorry; I was just wondering how much farther it is to the settlement."_

"_It is just around the bend up yonder," one of them – he didn't know which, as neither had bothered to tell him their names when they introduced themselves to his brothers – replied, undercurrents of disapproval in his tone. He pointed ahead to where the path was noticeably turning and shook his head. "We should arrive there soon enough, I trust, even for you."_

"_You do seem rather impatient," remarked the other wood-elf, speaking to their charge as if he were a child or a simpleton that couldn't understand that he was being talked down to. "But I suppose that I would be impatient myself if I was mortal and only had such a short time to live. Tell me, is impatience a trait that is more or else just an individual one of yours or is it characteristic of all of your kind? I haven't met enough Men to know either way."_

"_Neither have I," said Estel, feeling very inadequate and ignorant at the moment. "Men come and go in Rivendell at times but they don't stay for very long and I haven't spent a significant enough time with any of them to know for sure anything about what is and isn't characteristic of their – my – race."_

"_Oh," commented the second elf, and he turned away. Apparently he had no further interest in the young Man if Estel wasn't able to satisfy his passing curiosities about Men._

_Estel had never felt more insignificant in his life. He honestly would have felt better if they were openly rude, even spitting on him because then he would have something to brush aside and stand tall against; the backhanded comments, subtleties, and way in which they treated him not as an insult or enemy but an inconvenience was chipping away at his sense of self worth without giving him anything to fight back from. "I'm really grateful that Prince Legolas has agreed to be my archery instructor," he blurted out, desperate for _anything _say and hoping to remind them – and himself – that he was more than just some mortal Man who'd wandered into the Woodland Realm by accident._

_Both elves looked back at him again and Estel felt sweat on his palms. _'You are the son of Elrond as well as a Man,'_ he reminded himself firmly. _'That should mean something to them.' _"I've heard tales about his skills with a bow and arrow," he continued on as he hoped that the burning in his cheeks wasn't visible. "What is he like in person, the prince?"_

"_He is Prince Legolas Thranduilion, child of King Thranduil Oropherion" said the first elf, stricken by the youth's audacity in asking such a question. "He is of our noble line of kings and a credit to that blood. If that is not good enough for you, then take heart in knowing that he is also the most skilled archer in our realm."_

"_Nay – in Middle-earth," spoke up the second wood-elf, his eyes flashing. This was obviously a point of contention that the elves were very sensitive about and Estel was very sorry that he ever brought it up. "I know that there are some that dwell in Lothlorien who would claim that honorific for themselves, but they are vain fools."_

"_Aye, vain fools with fancy bows that do more than half of the work for them," agreed the first elf with a good amount of bitterness. "Prince Legolas could outshoot any one of them with his Mirkwood-make bow; and were he to use a bow of the Galadhrim he would be unstoppable. But that is the Noldor for you; no _wood-elf_ could _possibly_ be good enough to match _their_ skills. Say," he added, suddenly remembering Estel's presence and giving him a suspicious look, "isn't your foster father's wife from Lothlorien?"_

_Fantastic – they remembered that he was Elrond's son all right, but now they were finding insults to their prince in how his father had been married to a she-elf that had left Middle-earth long before he had been born who happened to be from a realm that the young Man had never been to. "I suppose so," answered Estel, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle and wishing that he were anywhere else but riding between them at the moment. "I never met her. I've never visited Lothlorien either. I have met a few people from there but they were always in a hurry to talk to my adar and never had time to demonstrate their archery skills to me, so I wouldn't know how their archers would compare to the prince" –_

"_That is not for you to compare," interrupted the first elf sharply. He looked at the young Man as one would look at a pet that had just relieved himself on an important guest's finest garments. "We are not completely ignorant, as _some_ in Rivendell may believe: we are capable of studying all the pieces of a puzzle and coming up with a logical conclusion. Lord Elrond was arrogant enough to all but demand that our prince be your instructor and Prince Legolas found enough cause beside his unfortunate attachment to the lord and his family to agree; so we understand that there is something special about you. But do not believe for one moment that this means anything to our people beyond the fact that now we have to witness our prince being inconvenienced by you when he should be able to put his efforts into tasks that would benefit his own realm and not that of Lord Elrond's."_

"_You are a guest here, Estel," the other elf saw fit to remind him, "and it is not for a guest to pass judgment on his host without due cause. Consider yourself to be unbelievably fortunate to have this unheard of opportunity to learn from Prince Legolas and do not question whether or not his skills are good enough to make him worthy to be your instructor."_

_This, of course, was the _last _thing that Estel was trying to do but he could see no use in telling those elves that – or anything else, for that matter. With his heritage, perceived ties to Lothlorien and real ties to Rivendell, and the way that he would be monopolizing the prince's time they were obviously primed to dislike him and there seemed to be nothing that he could do or say to change that. Oh, was this how things were going to be for the rest of the summer?_

_A terrible thought came to him: what if the prince turned out to be even worse? After all, if supposed challenges to the prince's reputation got his travel companions so up in arms why would it be any different for Prince Legolas, whose name it was that was perceived to be on the line? Estel could just imagine the prince looking at the Lothlorien-connected, Rivendell-reared _Man_ whom he'd felt obliged to tutor when he didn't want to and despising him. Why couldn't one of the twins have been his instructor instead; they might be increasingly disappointed in how inept he was but at least they also loved him! Why couldn't Elladan or Elrohir just spoken up and spared him from having to come to that wretched forest in the first place?_

_As Estel was resigning himself to a miserable summer he and the two wood-elves continued to ride, around the bend and beyond until at last they came to the borders of the elvish settlement. Estel had half-expected to see the prince at least out to great him but no one was in sight. Only when they were almost ready to cross into the settlement did an elf spring out from his hiding place to greet them, but his clothing was not fine or fancy enough to be that of a prince. His travel companions reactions was all the confirmation that the young Man needed to know that this was but the guard stationed to watch over the path._

"_Mae govannen, my friends," the guard said in response to the elves' salutations, nodding to the more familiar faces before letting his unreadable gaze settle on the newcomer. "Mae govannen, Estel Elrondion, and welcome to Mirkwood."_

"_Thank you," he said gratefully, happy to at last meet a wood-elf that wasn't treating him like a thorn in the side._

"_Seldom do we have visitors in this realm and none of them have been Men since the Last Alliance of Men and elves," the guard went on as if he hadn't said anything. "Ever since the weakness of your race nullified the sacrifices made by our people the king has not seen fit to grant Men leave to come here. You are an exception to that rule, Estel; I trust that you feel most honored."_

_Apparently that gratitude and happiness had come prematurely. "I do feel honored, thank you," said Estel formally, trying to be as polite as he possibly could. Like it or not, this realm was to be his home for the rest of the summer and if he was going to make it through the next few months with his sanity intact he had better not do anything to give them cause beyond what he couldn't control to dislike him further. "I greatly appreciate the opportunity that your king and prince have graciously offered to me. Uh, may I know where to find King Thranduil and Prince Legolas? I do not wish to disturb them – I understand that they are both busy with the important business of this fine realm – but I would like to pay them my proper respects; and my father and lord had bidden me to greet them on his behalf."_

"_The king has ordered me to pass along his regrets for not being here but he was called into an unavoidable meeting. He will not be able to official welcome you until later," the guard informed him, bristling a little at the young Man's fawning. If there was one thing that he couldn't stand it was insincerity. "As for Prince Legolas, he too has been delayed, but he made it clear that he will meet you in his own time."_

"_Thank you," said Estel again, but he really didn't mean it. Prince Legolas would meet him _in his own time_? The elvish prince sounded insufferable and haughty already, like he wasn't expecting his new pupil to be anything great and so couldn't be bothered with going out of his way to meet him. Estel hadn't even seen his new tutor yet and he was already disappointing him. What was it about him lately that was making him let everybody down?_

_What he needed was to find some way to impress on Prince Legolas that he was worthy of his time and efforts. Perhaps if he could not do that through his skills he could do so through his dedication to improve. "Do you suppose that it would be all right for me to practice my archery until they are ready to see me?" he asked hopefully. "I would appreciate the chance to brush up my skills as best I can and not unnecessarily waste any more of the prince's time – after I tend to my horse, of course," he added, patting his faithful steed's mane. No matter what else he couldn't neglect his friend's care._

"_The archery field is on the way to the stables," one of his travel companions interjected with a put-upon sigh. "I shall show you the way there and then tend to your good beast myself. I imagine that this has been a difficult journey for him out of the valley and through the mountains; he would most likely benefit more from an elf's care now that he could from a mortal's."_

_Normally Estel would have resented the elf's implication that he was either too clumsy, insensitive, or unskilled to tend to his own horse after a ride harder than a leisurely afternoon stroll but at the moment he could let it pass. After all, he wasn't losing anything from it: his horse would presumably be well taken car of; he could get in a little extra practice and so not dissatisfy the prince further; _and_ he could finally get away from those elves and the way that they condescended to him since Elbereth knew that they didn't respect him any more than they would an empty-headed little elfling._

_It felt so strange to be treated like an incompetent child. His father and brothers certainly made it known that he would now have a difficult time earning their respect but that was because they pushed him harder and farther tan what was usually required of people his age (or age-equivalent, as any elf who was twenty-years-old like him would still be in diapers). As Estel mumbled his thanks to the elf who had escorted him to the field before riding off to the stable at a speed that told the young Man that he was just as eager to be rid of him as Estel was to be left alone, the youth wondered bleakly what he could expect from the prince. It probably wouldn't be anything that he was hoping for._

_Relieved to at last be alone with his thoughts Estel unbuckled the bow that he'd been carrying around strapped to his back, made sure that it was in proper shooting order, and quickly pulled an arrow out of his quiver. He readied his bow and took aim at one of the large free-standing targets, shooting again and again until the quiver was empty. Then he retrieved the arrows and used them over and over until he lost all track of time._

_So focused was he on his practicing that he didn't know how long he'd been at it when a melodic voice spoke up from behind him: "You're not bad for a beginner."_

"_I'm not a beginner," said Estel in a sour voice. It was one thing to endure the impoliteness of the people that he had to see; it was quite another to put up with someone that was going out of his way to be rude to him without trying to defend himself. "Elladan and Elrohir of Rivendell have been my archery tutors for several years now."_

"_Those two?" the voice asked, clearly amused. "I take that back then; it's rather impressive that you can hit the target at all. You're sure to make an excellent archer once the damage inflicted by their teachings has been undone."_

_He could tell that the elf speaking to him wasn't being too serious about his criticisms of Elladan and Elrohir's teaching; but still no one had ever before implied that the reasons why he had become so disappointing was their fault instead of his. Intrigued, Estel turned to talk to the interloper and instead lost all ability to speak. The elf standing there was _beautiful_ and, what's more, his kind eyes and admiring smirk made the young Man feel truly welcome for the first time since he'd set foot into the forest. He wondered what the stunning stranger would look like with a pure smile on his face and knew then that he would be happy spending the rest of his life making sure that one came to and stayed on his lips. "Thank you," he replied at length as he tried not to be obvious about his staring._

_The elf wasn't as abashed about staring as he was, remaining quiet for several moments as he carefully studied the visitor to his realm. Only when Estel's growing discomfort became visible did he cease his scrutiny. "Forgive me," the elf requested- unnecessarily, of course, as Estel couldn't imagine ever being angry enough at him that such an appeal would be needed or rejected. "It's just that I've never seen a Man up close before. I've seen pictures, but pictures can never really do justice to what they're depicting, don't you think? I guess you really do have beards, huh?" _

_He shook his head and graced Estel with the one thing that he wanted to see more than anything else: a wide, genuine, and welcoming smile. "You're Estel Elrondion, correct?" the elf asked. The young Man nodded wordlessly. "I see that you're getting in a little practice before your official lessons begin."_

"_Yes; I wanted to make sure that I am at my peak performance level by the time of my first lesson," replied Estel, looking down at the bow in his hands – he was glad that he had that to hold on to so that he wasn't wringing them nervously – and then let his gaze shift back up to the elf's face. His new companion was watching him with a somewhat amused expression, as if he expected the young Man to say something more to him; however, Estel could only think of one thing to say. "May I ask who you are?"_

"_Yes you may, and I'll even give you an answer: I'm one of Mirkwood's archery instructors," the elf informed him casually, though there was a strange spark in his eyes. "I guess that means that you and I will be seeing a lot of each other."_

"_I'm afraid not," responded Estel regretfully. Damn! If he did have to spend his summer there why couldn't he have selected his own tutor instead of having his father _insist_ on choosing one for him? "My adar has already arraigned for Prince Legolas to be my instructor and I was not given the impression that he would be sharing that task with anyone else."_

"_You're stuck with Prince Legolas exclusively?" the elf clicked his tongue sympathetically. "You poor thing."_

_Estel looked at him in alarm. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, trying not to sound like he was unnerved. "From everything that I've heard I should count myself blessed to have him as a tutor."_

"_Between you and me, you shouldn't believe that," confided the elf earnestly. "The prince isn't nearly as talented as people continually gush on and on about. And take it from me, he's an ornery and difficult tutor to boot. Oh, don't get me wrong, young Elrondion, he is a fair one too. He would never ask his pupils to do anything that he wouldn't do himself – but he _is_ notorious for continuing to practice long after his fingers start to bleed; and he doesn't understand why others don't want to endure that level of self-abuse in order to improve."_

"_Fingers…_bleeding_?" repeated Estel faintly, unknowingly running his thumbs up and down each finger. He could almost feel the stinging pain and sticky moisture of the blood. "But why" –_

"_Greetings," the elf who had taken off to the stables with Estel's horse reappeared. The young Man was stunned when a respectful bow accompanied his salutation. "I just thought that you would want to know that your horse has been tended to, adan. Prince Legolas, I see you've already met our guest."_

"_We were just getting better acquainted," the instructor told him lightly as he placed a friendly hand on Estel's shoulder. "Thank you for your labors on my guest's behalf; you may now go about your business."_

_The young Man's eyes were wide as the other elf bowed once more and left. The respect had not been meant for him but for the beautiful, nice elf… the other elf's prince…. "You're Prince Legolas?" he asked, feeling quite foolish._

"_Indeed I am," confirmed Prince Legolas with a pleased smile, clearly happy that it had taken him so long to figure that out._

_Estel had absolutely no idea what to say next. "So," he fumbled awkwardly for words. "You say that the prince isn't as good as people claim he is?"_

"_Of course I'm not that good – if I started to believe all of that my head would swell so much that I wouldn't be able to get my clothing on in the morning," scoffed Prince Legolas good-naturedly. His enthusiastic expression dimmed somewhat, much to Estel's chagrin. "I didn't just put you off with all that teasing, did I? I couldn't help myself, especially after I figured out that you had no idea who I was. Don't worry about insulting me if you're finding me difficult to like – I've been told more than once that I have a personality that takes time to get used to."_

"_Oh no," said Estel quickly and not only because he longed to see the prince's face light up again. He knew that the elf hadn't been cruel in his teasing and it seemed to the young Man that he'd simply been treating him as he would anyone else. "Although that part about the blood was a bit much. Is it true?"_

"_Aye – but it's only happened once," replied Legolas, quick to point out that mitigating factor when Estel looked at him with clear distress. "I was trying to perfect that shot where you use one arrow to split another one in half; which I did manage to do. Afterwards Ada took one look at my hands and threatened to burn all of my bows and lock me in the cellar until the world ends if I ever 'tortured' myself like that again."_

"_You won't be expecting me to do that, then," said Estel._

_The prince wrinkled his brow. "I don't expect anything from you, Estel, beyond your best effort and the usual things like getting to practice on time with all of your equipment," he told him. The young Man suddenly felt as if a great weight had been removed from his shoulders. "You do your best and don't be an insufferable snot and we'll get along just fine."_

"_Deal," said Estel with an exaggerated shudder. He peered over at his new tutor and gave him a lopsided grin. "Not that it would have come down to me practicing for that amount of time. I would have been done long before the blood began to flow."_

"_So either you are exceptionally cocky about your skills, afraid of a little hard work, or else I've finally found myself a worthy verbal sparring partner," noted Prince Legolas. He eyed Estel and apparently liked what he saw in the young Man because he smiled brilliantly at him. "This will prove to be a very interesting summer. I'm looking forward to it."_

_Estel's heart fluttered. "As am I, Prince Legolas."_

"_Legolas," the prince – Legolas – corrected him. "The rest of the children of Elrond don't use my title; why should you be any different? You may call me Legolas, Estel."_

_O – End Flashback – O_

"Estel?" a voice jarred the Man out of his happy memories.

Aragorn blinked rapidly, cursing under his breath as he pulled himself into the present. "What is it?" he asked wearily, turning to face his intruder.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," apologized Elrohir kindly. He couldn't help but notice the stress that his younger brother had obviously been dealing with for months now and he regretted that he couldn't just leave him alone when he was finally relaxing. "Lord Faramir just arrived at the citadel. He says that he must speak to you at once about a personal matter."

"All right," said Aragorn, forcing a joking smile onto his face as he fell into step beside the elf lord. "I suppose that I've had enough peace and quiet for one day."

He'd meant to make Elrohir chuckle but instead the elf looked decidedly uncomfortable. Now didn't seem like quite the right time to bring this up but he could see through the Man's light-hearted façade; and he found that he could not look directly into the unhappiness there and hold his tongue. "Estel, I" – he grimaced and began again. "I've been watching how you're doing for awhile now and it's plain to see that things aren't as they once were between you and Elladan."

True – Aragorn's relationship with Elladan had been strained since the elf had confronted him at Solstice. Elladan was displeased with how he refused to try to put the past behind him and Aragorn cared just enough about how he felt about him to resent Elladan's continuing assumption that he and not Aragorn knew what was best for the Man. "He's not happy with me," he responded vaguely.

"He's not happy with a lot of people," Elrohir blurted out, stopping short and grabbing the Man's arm so that he would do the same. "Estel, I know he said something to you at Solstice about giving up your search for Legolas; but that's only because he's very angry at Legolas for vanishing like that. I think Elladan sees him as the first of many people he loves who has abandoned him in the last few years; then Ada, Grandmother, Grandfather, and Gandalf took the ships; and even you and Arwen moved here and away from him."

"I don't think it's the same," said Aragorn quietly.

"It's not just you, Estel," insisted Elrohir. "Elladan's been acting like this since a little bit after Ada left, muttering to himself about Legolas, Ada, you, and Arwen when he thinks that I don't see it." He put a friendly arm on Aragorn's shoulder. "What I'm trying to say, Estel, is – well, remember that you have more than one brother."

"I will," Aragorn assured him, surprising them both by embracing Elrohir like he used to before he knew that he was Isildur's heir. It felt so nice to have the love and support of someone whom he actually wanted those things from. "I will, thank you."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A very harried-looking Faramir was pacing to and fro across the dining hall when Aragorn and Elrohir entered. Arwen and Elladan, looking at the frenzied Man with concern, seemed relieved to see the king come back; and Faramir was doubly so. "My king," said the steward, spring forward anxiously. "I'm afraid that I must ask for your leave to go to Edoras at once."

"You have it, but why do you need it so suddenly?" asked Aragorn worriedly. "Is something wrong with Eomer?"

"He's getting married," replied Faramir. He grimly regarded the responding shocked gasp from his liege lord. "I see that you weren't aware of or expecting this either."

"It's been several month since I've heard from him in anything but an official capacity," said Aragorn, trying to wrap his mind around the news. "I didn't know that he was involved with anyone at all, let alone on such a level that he was considering getting married."

"Don't feel too bad; Eowyn didn't even know that he was involved with anybody," Faramir told him and everyone else in there, looking very tired as he remembered his wife reaction to the news. "Then a little over a week ago this messenger from Rohan came with a letter from Eomer saying that he was getting married. He didn't even say who this person is or anything about when and how they met. Needless to say, she left with the messenger to get to her brother as soon as possible and try to make sense of all of this. I couldn't go with her; I had to set things in order in Ithilien and now I'm here. I hope that you understand."

"Yes, of course I understand," agreed Aragorn without hesitation. "Wow; I can't believe that he would do anything like this. Eomer is usually so grounded."

So shocked was he that Aragorn almost missed the knocking on the dining hall door. "Enter!" he called.

A young Man – an errand runner of the city – opened the door and peered inside. "My king, my queen, good lords," he said, bowing properly. Then he straightened up and stuck out his hands to reveal that he was brandishing two messages in each one. "A messenger from Rohan just dropped these off at the gates with his apologies for having to leave before he could deliver them himself."

"I take it those are to me from his king," said Aragorn, gesturing to the rolled up pieces of parchment.

"Kind of," replied the errand runner, looking a little perplexed. "It was quite odd, my king; the messenger asked if the lords Elladan and Elrohir were still visiting. When I told him yes he said something about their messages that were sent to Rivendell not being able to reach them in time. I didn't understand what he meant and he didn't explain; he simply told me that both this one that is personal in nature and this one that is an official announcement is for them as well as for you and the queen."

"That's unusual," said Aragorn, taking the one that the young Man had indicate to be the personal one from him but leaving the official one – presumably the wedding invitation – with him. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that the twins would receive an invitation, as they were rulers in their own right, but the Man was at a loss to explain why Eomer would be sending them anything personal. "This will hopefully be enlightening. Well, let's get the business out of the way first; young Man, please read the invitation – the official message there – out loud so that we all may hear it since it's for all of us."

Breaking the Rohirric royal seal and unrolling the parchment the errand runner cleared his throat. "Good people of Middle-earth," he read formally. "It is with great honor and pride that the kingdom of Rohan announces that on the fifth day of July" –

"My, that's a little less than two weeks away!" exclaimed Arwen.

-"King Eomer Eadig of Rohan will be married to" –

Elladan and Arwen rose to their feet and all five of the people in the hall gathered together, staring half expectantly and half in horror when the errand runner let out a strangled choke. "Well,who is it?" demanded Aragorn.

No wonder the messenger – _had_ – to leave! "To…Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Eryn Lasgalan," the young Man stammered, his cheeks ablaze. He dared not look up but he heard the queen's shocked cry, the sharp intakes of breath all around him, and eyes that he somehow knew were his king's burning a hole into him. "You are cordially invited to attend."

To be continued…

_A/N: Taking some more inspiriation from Tolkien, I've decided to write 1-2 appendices for this story once I've reached the end (which will come between chapters 35 and 40; although I don't see it lasting as long as 40 chapters). The guaranteed appendix will be the hobbits' reactions to Legolas contacting them; I do want to include that in this somehow but adding it to the main text would break the momentum of the story. Whether or not I add a second one will depend on where I decide to end the story._


	32. Collision

During the War of the Ring it had taken the army of Rohan three days of hard riding to cover the distance from their land to outside of Minas Tirith. Need had pushed them as much as their commanders and they were all traveling as light as possible (with the exception of Eowyn, who had chosen that a little extra weight in the form of a determined hobbit was acceptable). Now a little over six years later the official party from Gondor was traveling that same distance and then some, laden down with far more burdens – hastily acquired (at Arwen's insistence) wedding presents, a queen that had not traveled for so far and long in many years, and three children aged five and under – and had only a bit more time to get to their destination on schedule. All things considered, the Gondorian royal party was making remarkable time – due in no small part to the driving force that was Aragorn. On every step of the journey he'd pushed them on and on like a Man possessed.

Fortunately, Aragorn was still thinking clearly enough to shield his children from his mood – all Eldarion and Silmariën knew was that their father was a bit anxious and in a hurry; and Miriel was too young to realize much at all – but Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, and Faramir were not subject to such protection. His transformation from the benevolent if distracted king to a single-minded lunatic in practically a second was definitely disconcerting and almost frightening to them and there seemed to be nothing that any of them could do about it. The preparations before leaving were rife with quarrels and yelling and the journey riddled with tension; and now that the riding party was about to reach their final destination of Edoras not one of them knew if Aragorn would be able to keep his emotions in check until they got to the bottom of this troubling affair with Eomer and Legolas.

Of course, it would have been _extremely _helpful if they'd already gotten some sort of adequate explanation pertaining to their long-missing friend's relationship with the Rohirric king. However each one of them had gone through what happened the morning that the wedding announcement and personal message arrived in Minas Tirith and no one could deduce anything more than what had been plainly stated. Ingrained in Arwen, the twins, and Faramir's minds was the expression on Aragorn's face when the errand runner read that it was Legolas who was Eomer's attended: he'd appeared to have been bewildered, angry, crushed, thrilled for having a viable lead on the elf's whereabouts after all of those years, and even brokenhearted. And all of that was before the unfortunate errand runner finished reading and smartly made a polite but hasty exit, before Aragorn and the others had the chance to properly digest the news.

_O – Flashback – O_

_The door to the dining hall slammed shut; to Arwen, her brothers, and the steward the noise seemed to echo all around them ominously. To Aragorn, however, it had been as if no noise had been made at all. He couldn't hear, he couldn't move, he could barely breathe, see, or think – the only thing that he was capable of doing was staring down at the wedding announcement that the errand runner had shoved into his hand before his swift exit. There was the name of the love of his life right there: Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Eryn Lasgalan, the intended of King Eomer Eadig of Rohan. No matter how much he stared at it, no matter how many times he read it, that didn't change: Legolas and Eomer, Legolas and Eomer, Legolas and Eomer…_

"_How much did you know about this?" hissed the king, glaring murderously over at Faramir – Eomer's brother-in-law. He _must _have had some idea! "I asked you a question! How much did you know about this debacle and for how long have you known it?"_

"_I knew nothing of it until this very moment!" cried Faramir nervously, for he saw the glint of madness in Aragorn's eyes. The queen and her brothers might not of known the extent of the king's search for Legolas, with the constant inquiries to every dignitary, leader, and anyone else he corresponded with no matter what said correspondence was about, but as the king's steward Faramir certainly did. And he knew that Aragorn had contacted Eomer recently, so there was some definite deception on his wife's brother's part; Faramir hoped that he and Eowyn weren't about to get caught in the crossfire. "I swear upon my life and honor to that; nor did Eowyn had any knowledge of any of this."_

"_There are laws against lying to your king," threatened Aragorn, not thinking clearly enough to consider his friend's honor and spotless service to both him and Gondor. "It's a treasonous offense!"_

"_Aragorn, my love!" cried out Arwen, unable to hold her tongue any longer. She needed to find a way to calm him before he said something that he regretted! "Lord Faramir knew of our concern for Legolas; he would have told us at once had he known anything!"_

_The angry eyes of the king turned to her and she found it hard to look upon him without trembling. "Our? Us?" repeated Aragorn darkly. Elladan stepped protectively to his incredibly hurt sister's side and shot her husband a warning look, which the Man returned with one of his own. "What do you have to do with any of this, Arwen? Or you for that matter, Elladan? Both of you happily gave Legolas up for lost – or worse – a long time ago so don't you dare start acting like you care about him now."_

"_Estel," Elrohir spoke up quietly in his calmest tone. Aragorn slowly turned to look at him and a little of his anger dissipated. Elrohir was, after all, the one person who had never acted indifferently to his search or believed him to be a fool for carrying it on for so long – a fact that the elf lord was counting on him to remember. "Dear brother, this isn't getting us any answers. King Eomer also sent a personal message; perhaps we can find more answers in there."_

_The personal message – Aragorn had forgotten about that rolled up piece of parchment clenched in his fist. Quickly he turned it over to find where it was sealed and felt a wave of angry disgust and betrayal when he saw the insignia of Rohan's royal family imprinted in the wax. With shaking hands he broke the seal and began unrolling it hastily, gasping when he saw a few of the words. "This isn't from Eomer," he breathed. "This is Legolas' handwriting – this is from Legolas."_

_No one commented on it, although everyone was thinking about it: royal insignias were not to be used indiscriminately. Only members of a royal house could use said house's brand, but Legolas was using Rohan's while he was but the king's fiancé. That conveyed a sense of depth and seriousness about their relationship that made Aragorn's stomach twist into knots._

_It was a shame that the message itself had about as much information – as in none at all beyond hints that led to worried speculations, troubling deductions, and more questions – as the seal. Aragorn silently scoured it once and then in a trembling voice read it aloud for the others to hear:_

"Dear Friends (if I may be so bold as to still call you that):

This is not an easy letter to write, although I've written it in my head often enough that it should be. I'm sorry, but you know me – when I'm not sure what else to say I invariably fall back on a joke. I know that won't due now, for I owe many people an explanation about my abrupt disappearance.

The details of the matter are too complicated to get into in this letter to any great length and still too painful for me to find a way to summarize them. All that I can say is that six years ago I found myself in a situation that had no real, clean solution. The only way that I could think of to deal with it was to leave everything and everyone behind. This was probably not the best way that I could have responded to it but what's done is done and I cannot change the past.

Reentering the world has been a gradual and difficult process. I have not contacted you before now because I had a lot of things to figure out for myself before I could begin to figure out how I could possibly explain it to any of you. There is a very vocal part of me that still tells me that I'm not prepared for this; writing this letter takes all of the courage that I have.

A part of what as been helping me find my strength once more is Eomer's constant support. How he came to be involved in my life again was either a fortunate turn of fate or else the blessing of Elbereth, for were it not for him I daresay I would never have rejoined the world at all. A great friendship blossomed between us early on and as of late our relationship has deepened into something much more. After a courtship that actually started before either of us realized it we have decided to get married. It may seem sudden but we are happy.

After all that has happened I completely understand if you wish to never see or hear from me again. Yet I would very much like the opportunity to see you all again and perhaps better explain to you why I did what I did. I will not contact you again without your permission and no insult will be taken if you cannot come to the wedding. Please just know that I am safely in Rohan in you ever want to have me back in your lives.

I'm sorry for any pain or worry that I've caused you.

Legolas"

_O – End Flashback – O_

That was it: no real explanation of his disappearance or relationship with Eomer. Legolas' tone had been deeply apologetic and those that knew him understood that he was being entirely sincere. This only made them worry even more, for what had been so terrible that he felt that he couldn't get into at least some of the more broad details in the letter?

For Aragorn it had been a more awful blow than anyone, save except Elladan, could comprehend: after more than six years of obsessing over the vanishing of his true love this was his reward. His fierce devotion and concern for Legolas and his well being had been answered by only a letter addressed to at least his wife as well as him, and intended for his foster brothers too. Why hadn't the love of his life sent him a more personal message? Something was amiss, Aragorn was convinced of that, and from that moment on he was consumed with one mission only: to get to Edoras in time and _stop that wedding_.

That was easier said than done. Aragorn was the king of Gondor and that meant that he just couldn't get up, grab a horse, and go. That had never been a bigger frustration as it had been as when he'd been desperately itching to go but forced to stay in Minas Tirith for too many days while he worked out the details of how Gondor was going to be ruled in his absence. As Faramir already had leave to go too Aragorn had to select someone that he trusted to rule in his stead without insulting a lot of other politically important people; that took more time than he would have liked it to but he needed the nobles placated – after all, if all went as planned Legolas would be coming back to Minas Tirith with him and he didn't want anyone giving him a difficult time about it.

Then there had been the matter of the children to think about. Aragorn couldn't just leave Eldarion, Silmariën, and Miriel in the care of just anyone and Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan – for varying reasons – had refused to remain behind to attend to them. That meant that a small boy, a toddler, and a baby had to be made ready to take the journey between the White City and Edoras, and then said journey kept at a pace that wouldn't overtax them. Truth be told, as much as it frustrated Aragorn to travel at such an excruciating pace he was glad that his children were with him; if all went according to plan Legolas was going to become a major part of their lives and he longed for them to meet him as soon as may be. The five of them were going to be one big happy family and woe would befall anyone that tried to stop that from happening.

Still, all of the delays had added up to a lot of wasted time and now the wedding was going to take place the next day. Aragorn knew that he was cutting it close for everything he had to do but all that mattered was that he wasn't too late yet. There was time to break up the wedding of another realm's monarch and steal the king's monarch as long as he kept his mind on the task at hand.

The Man was so consumed by his musings that he was no longer paying attention to where he and his riding party were; as long as the horses kept moving forward he was grimly satisfied. He didn't wish to converse with Arwen, Faramir, Elladan, and Elrohir any more than he had to and he didn't welcome it when his wife suddenly shouted out: "Oh my; look over there!"

Forcing himself out of the tirade and dark thoughts brewing in his mind Aragorn managed to focus his attention on whatever had caught the elf queen's attention. As soon as he saw it his expression clouded over and his eyes hardened. Edoras was now in view – he could see Meduseld set against the mountain in the distance – but that was not what Arwen was pointing out. What he was looking at was much closer and a whole lot more disconcerting and he wasn't the only one with that opinion.

"Those trees?" asked Faramir anxiously, not understanding his travel companions' reactions to the grove but not liking it all the same. "They're new here; I don't remember them from my visit here a few years ago, and it's very strange that they've grown as much as they have in such a short time. What does a new tree grove mean?"

"Those trees aren't from around here," replied Elrohir grimly. "We've seen ones like them before: they are indigenous to Eryn Lasgalan."

"Perhaps they only look similar to the trees in that forest," suggested Faramir hopefully, wishing more than anything that they could get through all of this without dire personal and political ramifications. Dear Valar, if they really were from Eryn Lasgalan then how long had the prince actually been in Edoras?

"There are none others that even remotely resemble those particular trees and they don't grow naturally outside of the Woodland Realm," spoke up Elladan in a vaguely disgusted tone. He couldn't help looking over at Aragorn as he continued: "Legolas has apparently been making himself right at home."

Aragorn bristled at his foster brother's implication and met his glare unflinchingly. "Or else someone else has gone to great lengths to make him _think _that Edoras is his home," he said as his grip tightened on his reins. This was all too real – he was truly terrified of losing Legolas for good. He hadn't really felt that way when he'd married Arwen because he knew that his heart would always belong to the elf prince and he believed that Legolas would never really be out of his life. That faith hadn't wavered when Legolas had vanished because Aragorn had refused to let himself think for a moment that he wouldn't come back one day. But to have him getting married and settled down enough in that new life to bring permanent pieces of his home to his intended's realm…

"Estel," said Elladan sharply, the edge of his tone laced with warning. "We don't know what's going on yet. The fact of the matter is that there's a _very_ good chance all is well and Legolas is truly happy with King Eomer. If that is the case then we should be happy for him."

The Man would hear none of it. "We ride on," he declared through gritted teeth. "No stops, no detours, no nothing. I don't care what you say or think – something is amiss and I refuse to rest until I see with my own eyes that Legolas hasn't been harmed and get some answers out of Eomer. Noro lim, Brego!"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Edoras was easy enough for the party from Gondor to enter – now that the king and prince had officially made their relationship public the need for secrecy about Legolas' whereabouts was moot (though the Rohirrim knew better than to speak openly about Caladel yet). Besides, important guests had been coming for a couple of weeks and all of the guards knew and revered Aragorn for his services to their realm during the War than they did any of the rest of the stream of people. As it was, the gate guards enthusiastically greeted the Man and his companions and bowed as they passed through into the city.

Perhaps the guards wouldn't have let them in so lightly, however, if they knew all of the dark thoughts and threats toward their king that were running through Aragorn's mind. _'I don't care whose realm this is,' _decided the Man menacingly. _'I am going to find Eomer and make him answer for his part in Legolas' disappearance. It doesn't matter if he's hiding in the deepest bowels of Meduseld because I am fully prepared to tear the Golden Hall apart with my bare hands if necessary!'_

As willing as he might have been to take his search to such an extreme the effort turned out not to be necessary: Eomer was outside and in plain sight, standing on the front steps of Meduseld. Eowyn stood by his side and the two siblings were talking animatedly to each other, but Legolas was nowhere in sight. _'Not surprising if he's been locked away in some chamber,' _decided Aragorn. _'How long has he been trapped here, my poor, poor love…'_

When the blonde Man heard the Gondorian party's approach and looked up Aragorn saw the look in his eyes. In that moment he knew that for Eomer this was a moment that he'd known had been coming for a long time; one that he accepted but would have done anything to keep from happening. _'He knows what he's done to my love is wrong!'_ Aragorn's mind screamed.

With an audible growl the king of Gondor leapt down from his horse. Ignoring Arwen's panicked hiss for him to wait and the sounds of everyone else's scrambling as they too dismounted – presumably to stop him from doing anything that they considered to be rash – but there was almost nothing that would have halted him now. _'And they don't have to worry about any rashness on my part,' _fumed Aragorn as he stalked up to Eomer. There wasn't going to be anything rash aboutwhat he was about this – he'd been carefully plotting out what he was going to say and do to Eomer for almost two weeks.

Strange, warring feelings welled up inside Eomer as he waited for Aragorn to come to him. Technically the fault was entirely with him that the other Man was furious, as he was the one who'd kept Legolas' location a secret. However, Eomer knew that his fiancé had a falling out of sorts with Aragorn before he'd gone into exile in Fangorn; and he wasn't inclined to be too happy with someone who had hurt his husband-to-be. It was a testament to his decorum that he managed to show none of this, keeping his expression free from all emotions except perhaps for a little wariness. "Welcome to Rohan, Aragorn," he greeted with tight politeness.

The Man's eyes shifted to his side, where Faramir had come up to embrace his sister. The steward caught his gaze and glanced back at Aragorn nervously. So there had been problems; this was not unexpected but it was good to have a little warning about them. "And welcome to the rest of your party as well. It is good to see you again, my queen, Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir; and always a pleasure to see you, Faramir. It's wonderful to see your children again too – we were not expecting them but they are a welcome addition to the celebrations."

"Where's Legolas?" demanded Aragorn through clenched teeth, shooting vicious looks at him.

"He is where he has been for the last few days," replied Eomer, his tone even but terse. It made his blood boil slightly to hear Aragorn talk as if he had sole claim to the elf. "He is acting as a mediator between the elves of Eryn Lasgalan and the dwarves of the Glittering Caves. They've been doing nothing but arguing since Thranduil" –

"_Thranduil?"_ echoed Aragorn, outraged.

"He asked me to call him Thranduil," replied Eomer with a hint of a smile. "But that's not the point. Apparently he and Gimli can only agree on two things: that they both love Legolas and they both hate each other. Legolas has been spending a lot of time as of late trying to keep the peace."

"You know what I'm talking about!" exploded Aragorn. More than a few passer-bys stopped briefly to stare at them; the guards at Meduseld's doors discreetly inched forward and Elrohir sprang up behind his brother and put his hand on the Man's shoulder in a vain attempt to restrain him. Aragorn simply shook him off. "He's been missing with no explanation as to why for six years! Now suddenly he's here and he's about to _marry_ you? You know how important it was for me to find him and yet you keep him a secret; and I can't think of any reason for it beyond the worst. Now's your chance to answer for yourself: how long has he been here?"

Eomer brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and that's when Aragorn saw it: the mithril ring on his right hand. It looked just like the one that King Thranduil always wore around his neck. During that magical summer in Mirkwood Legolas had explained to him that it was a marriage band made for all members of Oropher's line. The Man's dream since then was to have one like it on his own hand one day and now Legolas had given his to _Eomer_. "A little over a year," admitted Rohan's king.

"A little over a year?" repeated Arwen, getting incredulous in her turn. She understood well enough that there were a lot of complicated politics in this situation but she loved Legolas like a brother and this wasn't to be tolerated. "That long, and he didn't try to contact us – his _family_ – before now? Forgive me if I find that more than a little difficult to believe."

"There were mitigating circumstances," spoke up Eowyn in defense of her brother. Her eyes flashed when the king and queen looked at her suspiciously. "I knew nothing about Legolas or what brought him here until I got here almost three weeks ago. I was wary of the situation myself, but I understand now and so will you soon enough. Let me assure all of you that I've seen and spoken to Legolas as recently as today and he's _fine_."

"He had many issues to sort through when he first came here, Queen Arwen," added Eomer, looking the she-elf squarely in the eye. "Rejoining the world hasn't been an easy task for him and there are still some things that he needs to work out. But he's dedicated to moving on and he wants to make a fresh start with everyone. I think he'd hoped to be in a better place before he had to explain what happened to all of you, and that's why he waited for as long as he did to send word."

"That doesn't explain why _you _waited for so long," shot back Aragorn, not bothering to keep the accusation out of his voice. He had no reason to believe that Eomer was telling the truth and he wasn't exactly inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I made it very clear in every single letter that I sent in the past six years that I wanted to know anything and everything about Legolas' whereabouts as soon as you found it out!"

"Check your tongue," warned Eomer with a simmering fury. He really hadn't expected anything different from Aragorn, but this public display of disrespect on the steps of his hall was too much to bear. It didn't help matters that he was finding it harder than he originally thought to hold what he really wanted to say to the other Man at bay. "This is my kingdom and you are a guest here. It would be prudent to remember that I am not your subject and neither is Legolas and that means that your requests for information were just that – requests. I had to weigh your need to know against Legolas' need to have some time to heal. It came down to a choice between you two, Aragorn, and I chose Legolas."

Aragorn's nostrils flared dangerously as he perceived an unintentional dig at him for _not _choosing Legolas. His hands clenched into fists and he took a step forward; Eomer tensed, preparing to fight back as he too stepped forward until the two Men were practically nose-to-nose. The situation might have deteriorated from there until the monarchs were physically brawling and a spectacle occurred.

Then one lone voice, free of any anger but full of concern and resolve, came from the top of Meduseld's steps: "Papa!"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A few minutes before, while Eomer was grimly watching Aragorn ride up to meet him, Caladel was in the study watching another conflict unfold before his eyes. He and his ada had gone in there to have a little father-and-son time but that was apparently doomed from the start. They had only been in there for a short while when his grandfather and Gimli had burst in with some sort of quarrel already brewing between them. Legolas had often told his son that having the elven king and dwarf around was like having three children; and the boy had felt a great deal of pride when his ada had thanked him for being the most well-behaved of the bunch.

He knew that his ada hadn't been exaggerating about that when his grandfather and Gimli stormed in with their fight about something silly. Now the bickering pair was standing side-by-side in front of the sofa where Legolas sat, grousing about their tales of woe. Actually, the boy had been sitting there as well but as soon as the two had burst into the chamber he'd scrambled out of the fray and began inching closer and closer to the door. It was a shame that his ada hadn't been as fortunate.

"Legolas, I insist that you do something about this…_Gimli_," demanded Thranduil, spitting out the dwarf's name as if it was an insult only when his son shot him a silent warning not to say anything crasser. "He deliberately sits in my line of vision at meals and makes his already abhorrent table manners worse just to disgust me. He's trying to kill me by seeing to it that I starve to death!"

"Oh, have I offended your delicate sensibilities?" smirked Gimli nastily. He looked to Legolas for support and was undeterred when he didn't see any readily apparent. "I only wiped my mouth with my beard after taking a drink, laddie. You've seen me do it before" –

"Well, I'm not surprised that you acted so disrespectfully around my child too!" interrupted Thranduil.

Gimli narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing disrespectful about it!" he snapped. "What about you, laddie – do you think it's worth such a fuss? Just because I don't drink with my pinkie in the air like some people…"

"You shouldn't drink at all," scoffed Thranduil. "By Elbereth, your snores are loud enough to wake everyone in Meduseld after you've spent the evening with your nose in your ale."

"As if elves don't snore!" countered Gimli. "My father told me that your own butler was making quite a ruckus when he and the other dwarves outsmarted you and escaped. It's a shame that it wasn't the kind of ruckus that you needed him to make."

"Enough!" burst out Legolas, looking at them sternly but pleadingly. "Why must you two bicker on over every little thing? Why do you have to drug up the past when you do it? I'm getting married tomorrow, for Elbereth's sake! It would be very nice if you could put your differences aside for just a little while so that I could concentrate on getting ready for that, spending time with my child – my _actual_ child, not the people simply _acting_ like my children – and visiting with my other guests as any polite host would. By all that's good in Middle-earth, I saw Merry, Sam, and Pippin for the first time in six years just yesterday and even _that _got interrupted by your squabbling!"

Caladel could take no more of this. The fighting didn't scare him anymore – it did at first, before his ada sat him down and explained to him that it was stubbornness rather than true anger that kept his grandfather and the dwarf from being friends – but it did bother him, if only for Legolas' sake. Thranduil and Gimli both claimed to love him and his ada, and the boy didn't understand why that love couldn't extend to each other too, especially when it was plain to see that their arguing made his ada very upset. If only they could let go of whatever happened in the dungeons or cells or whatever they kept bringing up and his ada would have to try to settle things between them all of the time!

Watching Thranduil and Gimli blame each other for putting Legolas through so much a brilliant idea came to Caladel: maybe his ada wasn't helping matters. The more that he thought about it, the more that made sense. Their arguing made his ada upet; seeing his ada upset inevitably made his grandfather and Gimli upset and when those two got upset they started arguing again. Plus, Legolas seemed to think that their relationship was beyond repair, therefore not really doing anything beyond trying to get them to reach a temporary truce. Besides, his ada was just as stubborn as the two of them and all that stubbornness couldn't be helpful when two enemies needed to make up.

What they needed in the study was another moderator. Someone who was wise, someone who was calm, someone…someone like his papa! Yes, that was a fantastic plan! Caladel was never more certain of anything; after all it was his papa who got his ada past his stubbornness all the time when it came to Caladel's riding lessons and stuff. And it wasn't just that – his papa had also helped his ada stop being so distrustful of other people. Of course Eomer was just the person to help get to the bottom of the problem between Thranduil and Gimli!

Quietly so as not to disturb his ada while the older elf was trying to perform a miracle of such scale Caladel slinked the rest of the way to the door, every so slowly pushed it outward, and shuffled out. He was counting on the argument to keep the three adults he'd left behind distracted enough not to notice him going and it seemed to work. The boy waited a few moments to make sure that no one was calling or coming after him and then turned and walked away, his head held high. Now, where was his papa? Oh, right – he was probably somewhere outside; the Man had been steering clear of all the elf-dwarf tensions lately and the only place where that could really happen was outside.

'_He's probably not too far away,' _decided Caladel. _'Ada wouldn't be too happy if Papa totally left him to deal with Gimli and Grandfather. I bet I could find him if I just went outdoors for a second.'_

Resolved, he headed off in the direction of the main doors. He was just about there when he passed by one of the guards who was usually posted at said doors. "Good afternoon, Ewias," Caladel greeted him cheerfully.

"To you as well, my lord," replied the guard distractedly. There had been bets among his company about whether the Gondorian royal family would show up for the wedding. He'd laid odds that they would but in retrospect that was one wager that he wished he'd lost. No one, save the Lady Eowyn and her husband, had looked terribly happy to see each other and there was trouble coming because of it. Ewias had taken one look at their dark expressions and gone off in search of the prince – perhaps _he_ could set things right between the king and the newly arrived guests. "Do you know where I might find Prince Legolas?"

"He's in the study," Caladel told him helpfully. The guard nodded his thanks and the two continued on their separate ways, both unaware of how their individual actions were working together to bring on the coming storm.

It didn't take too long for Caladel to find his papa at all: he was right there on the front steps of Meduseld, standing with Aunt Eowyn and a bunch of people that the boy had never seen before. Three of the adults were intriguing, as they were elves but with dark hair instead of blonde like the ones in the stories about Rivendell; and there were children playing behind them that looked like they were – was it possible? – half-elves like him! Normally the appearance of any children, especially a boy who appeared to be about his age, would have excited him greatly no matter what race or races they belonged to, but not at that moment. Right then the elfling was too worried about his papa to think about anything else.

His wonderful, brave papa who wouldn't hurt a fly if he didn't have to was standing very close to a strange Man. Neither of them looked very happy – in fact they seemed to be furious with each other. "Papa!" he called out in alarm.

No one had been expecting that sort of interruption, especially not Aragorn. He watched, dumbfounded, as a young boy with long dirty blonde hair and garbed in clothing befitting a member of the Rohirric royal family scurried down the steps. The child wedged himself between Eomer and Eowyn and planted himself firmly in front of Rohan's king; and that's when Aragorn saw him close enough to truly take in his appearance. The Man's heart stopped when he saw that the boy – the boy who looked very much like Legolas – had _pointed ears_. "Papa?" repeated Aragorn.

Caladel didn't like the stranger's tone. As a matter of fact, after seeing the Man be so mean to his papa he didn't much like the stranger at all. He was glad when his papa took his hand and pulled him a little closer and away from the troublemaker. "That's right," said Eomer evenly. "I'm proud to say that this young lad here is my son, Caladel."

Caladel – light of an elf. A boy with elf ears, and elf name – why did he look so much like Legolas? And why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? "He looks like – like an elf," said Aragorn with blunt surprise.

"I am an elf," said Caladel crossly. He could see that there was nothing likable about this stranger. "I'm a Man too, but that doesn't mean I'm not an elf. I get the elf from my ada and the Man from my papa. They're getting married tomorrow, Ada and Papa."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"So we're agreed," stated Legolas, holding up his hands, one toward Thranduil and one toward Gimli in a gesture to verbally restrain them. The two were still glaring at each other too much for him to hope that this was over with once and for all but at least they'd stopped bickering for now. "From this point on the party from Eryn Lasgalan will sit on one side of the dining hall, the party from the Glittering Caves will sit on the other, and you two just won't look at each other!"

"I can do that," grumbled Thranduil. It was not in his nature, though, to let an argument rest without getting in the last word. Under his breath he added: "Although why he can't use a napkin like civilized folk I'll never understand."

Gimli growled in annoyance. "Next time I won't use my beard," he blustered. "I'll wipe my mouth on that hair of yours instead!"

"You miserable little coal miner," spat out Thranduil.

"You pointy-eared spider lord!" shot back Gimli.

Legolas wasn't about to go through all of that work again just to have it blow up in his face. Throwing his hands up in the air he sank back onto the sofa and tiredly watched two people that he loved hurl insults at each other. Maybe they would get into fisticuffs; perhaps even knocking each other out. At least then he could get some peace from their quarrels.

A knock came to the door, causing the bickering duo to actually quiet down. "Come in!" yelled Legolas, already grateful.

The guard Ewias stuck his head inside and hand to bite back his laughter at the sight of two leaders of their peoples glaring at each other like insolent children. "Prince Legolas, master dwarf, master elf," he greeted them. "My prince, you might want to come outside. The Gondorian royals are here with the elf lords from Rivendell and Lady Eowyn's husband. Things were…well, they were looking kind of ugly when I left."

"Thank you," groaned Legolas. He wasn't sure how to feel; on the one hand he was nervously excited about the possibility of renewing his friendships with Arwen and the twins, but then there was everything that went along with seeing Aragorn…. Still, there was no getting away from it now. "Ada, Gimli, can I trust you two to get along long enough to mind Caladel" –

His voice broke off when he realized that his son was nowhere to be seen. "Caladel?" he wondered aloud.

"I just saw him, my prince," offered the guard. "We walked by each other only a few minutes ago, me coming in and him going out."

"You mean he was heading outside to where you just came from?" asked Legolas as panic grew inside him. Caladel was heading outside…maybe even out there already…to where Aragorn was…to where Aragorn could figure out the truth...what would Aragorn _do_…. "Dear Elbereth, _no_!"

And with that he shot out of the study as if Sauron himself was chasing him, leaving a confused Man, understanding dwarf, and concerned but suspicious elf in his wake.

To be continued…


	33. Derailment

The world seemed to slow around him as Aragorn dropped to his knees in front of Caladel. All of the noises sounded like dull, distant wisps in his ears and everything except for the boy before him faded away a bit. This child – Caladel, the light of an elf – was like something out of a sleeping or waking dream, where he could see himself and Legolas living as they should be. But surely he would have known…surely Legolas would have told him, or else someone else would have…the birth of a child wasn't the sort of event that someone was supposed to keep secret, not from someone who had helped create that life…

The Man's mind was too numb with shock to register that distaste and uneasiness were mixing in the boy's expression. "Your ada and papa are getting married tomorrow?" repeated Aragorn, sounding dazed. He studied Caladel's face carefully, his heart both swelling and breaking at the same time, if such a thing were possible. "You look so much like…. Your ada – is his name Legolas?"

"Yes," answered Caladel with a touch of defiance in his voice, although he shrank back further against Eomer as he spoke. This strange Man was staring at him (which was very rude in and of itself, and was obviously a sign that there was something not trustworthy about him – why, even his grandfather or Aunt Eowyn hadn't stared so much and they had more cause to, being his relatives and all) with an odd look in his gray eyes. If the elfling had been forced to describe it he would have said that the Man looked happy and sad all at once and yet was filled with a love that was scary in its intensity.

Caladel didn't understand why the Man who had looked ready to fight his papa only moments before was looking at him like that now and it made him very uncomfortable. "My papa is King Eomer Eadig of Rohan and my ada is Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Eryn Lasgalan – although tomorrow Ada is going to be from Eryn Lasgalan and Rohan both," he continued, feeling safer when he felt Eomer's hands on his shoulders. He threw the Man kneeling in front of him an insolent look and muttered: "I don't know why you think that's any of your business."

"Perhaps you should go inside and find your ada, Caladel," suggested Eomer prudently as Aragorn's mouth dropped open. While he wasn't sure what Legolas' plan had been for telling Aragorn and the children of Elrond about the elfling's existence – if indeed Legolas had come up with a plan at all – he was certain that this wasn't anything close to what he had in mind.

"Wait," demanded Aragorn desperately, afraid that if he let the child out of his sight now then he would never see him again. Curse Eomer for trying to keep them apart!

"I think that would be for the best, Aragorn," Eomer told him firmly and meaningfully as he discreetly started nudging Caladel away. Yes, the sooner his intended got out there to do some damage control the better, for the other king looked like he was seconds away from losing all control and good judgment. "Go on now, my son. I'm sure that Legolas would like to know that our guests from Gondor and Rivendell have arrived and are waiting to see him."

That had exactly the _opposite_ effect on what he wanted Caladel to do; before the boy had been more than willing to get out of the strange Man's company but once he heard the word 'Rivendell' his ears perked up and he put on the brakes. "Rivendell?" he repeated excitedly, smiling over Aragorn's head at the elf lady and the two identical elf lords. Of course! Why hadn't he noticed it before?

One of the lords – he couldn't tell the difference between the two of them – was staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost and that didn't make Caladel feel very comfortable either; but judging by the expressions on the other lord and the lady's faces they were just beginning to understand something. It was still odd as far as Caladel was concerned but he was more willing to put up with all of this, especially if what he was guessing was true. "Ada tells me stories about Rivendell a lot!" he announced to them, his eyes shining. "He says that it's a nice valley with gardens and books and rivers. He says that's where three of his dearest friends come from. Are you them? Are you Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan?"

Tears pricked at Elrohir's eyes. "Yes," he confirmed in a whisper. For all of those years he'd wondered if Legolas had forgotten them or had stopped caring; it was heartwarming to know now that they had never been far from his thoughts.

"How wonderful!" declared Caladel. "Which one of you is which?"

"I'm Elrohir; and this is my sister Arwen and my brother Elladan," replied Elrohir, gesturing to himself and his siblings in turn. When he looked over to introduce his twin he noticed that Elladan was looking at Caladel as if he'd just realized something and that realization had broken him somehow. It was terrible; and yet at the same time it was nice to see that Elladan could still feel something other than anger and bitterness.

Aragorn felt invisible. He couldn't just kneel there and allow everyone to overlook his existence! "I'm Aragorn," he spoke up desperately. He reached out and seized the boy suddenly, clutching at both of his arms. "I too was from Rivendell and now hail from Gondor. Does Legolas tell you stories about Aragorn or Gondor too?"

Caladel violently jerked out of his grip. "No!" he said harshly. Eomer put his arms around his son soothingly and sent Aragorn a warning glare. "I mean, yes, I guess. He's mentioned Gondor a couple of times – there was a battle there or something; it wasn't anything that Ada liked remembering – but I've never heard him say the name Aragorn before."

Arwen was standing behind her husband and only saw his shoulders slump, but she didn't have to see the expression on his face to know that he was devastated by this news. She wanted badly to tell him that she couldn't believe that it was true; that Caladel was just nervous about the way that the Man was behaving and trying to distance himself from him in every possible way. There was no way that Legolas would have told his son about everyone else except for his closest friend – perhaps Aragorn was such a mythical figure in the elf's stories that Caladel couldn't believe he and the person before him was one in the same.

But no matter how much she longed to soothe Aragorn's feelings Arwen held her tongue. She didn't want to alienate Caladel by openly siding with Aragorn. If what she now guessed had happened to drive Legolas away all those years ago was true then both he and his son were going to have some issues with trusting others. They needed to be shown kindness and understanding; and her husband's feelings, as important to her as they were, would just have to wait.

"If you will excuse me for a moment," said Eomer to his guests, taking advantage of the awkward silence that had fallen over them. He took Caladel's hand and began leading him up the stairs. "I'm going to help my son find Legolas. I will be back with him as soon" –

"_Caladel! Caladel!"_

Legolas burst out of Meduseld and ran full-force to the top of the staircase. _"Cala-" _he began again

His frantic cry died on his lips when he beheld the scene before him near the bottom of the stairs. Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan were there, staring up at him. The former two had expressions that were damnably close to pity on their faces while the latter was looked as if he was feeling too many contrary emotions to settle on just one. That was fine – he would choose mixed emotions over pity any day. Behind them were two young children; Legolas could only presume that they were the children of Aragorn and Arwen that he'd heard about. The boy and girl – Eldarion and Silmariën, if he was remembering correctly – had apparently been distracted from their impromptu game by his shouting and were now inching toward their parents, to the obvious disconcertion of a servant in a carriage who was cradling a baby. Faramir was there as well; standing with Eowyn, who in turn was at her brother's side.

The most disturbing image, though, was the three other people there. Eomer and Caladel looked as if they had been trying to slip away from…from Aragorn. Legolas felt his skin go cold when he registered that his former lover was there. For the first time in over six years he laid eyes on the Man that had broken his heart once more, kneeling at eye-level with the child that the elf had tried to hide from him. Then…then Aragorn's eyes were upon him; Legolas' throat constricted and his heart twisted as he felt the yearning and the pull emanating from his former lover. It was as if the Man was weaving a spell over him…

"Ada!" cried Caladel in relief. He let go of Eomer's hand and sprang up the stairs, not stopping until he reached Legolas and leapt into his arms. 'My ada is here now,' he wanted to yell back at the strange Man who'd frightened him. 'Papa has to be nice to you but Ada means business!'

"Oh, Caladel," said Legolas, trying to keep the rattled emotions out of his voice. Aragorn's hold over him lessened significantly as he squeezed the elfling in his arms, and even more so when the two arms and two legs that were wrapped around him tightened in response. "You left without telling me where you were going."

"I'm so sorry, Ada," Caladel whispered in his ear. "I was a bad boy."

"No, no; you aren't a bad boy," Legolas told him comfortingly as he rubbed the boy's back. "I just didn't know where you were and I have to know where you are, always."

"I was only trying to help," lamented Caladel, unhappy that he'd caused his ada pain. "I wanted to find Papa so he could go to the study and help you make Grandfather and Gimli stop their bickering."

In spite of everything Legolas found himself smiling warmly. "My sweet, sweet child," he murmured.

Eomer came up to his fiancé's side and rested a tentative hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," the Man apologized in a low voice, not wanting their new guests to overhear. "I should have contacted as soon as they arrived."

"It's all right, Eomer," Legolas assured him, feeling a lot better now that Caladel was with him – and with the two of them – and away from Aragorn's clutches. He gave the Man a small, reassuring smile. Eomer responded by wrapping one arm around Legolas' back, one arm around Caladel's back, and bringing them both close to him; and for a moment Legolas felt completely at peace.

Aragorn stood up slowly and stared at the three with a growing amount of elation, confusion, and jealousy. Caladel was _his _son, _his _child – he was sure of it. Legolas had borne _his _child after being driven away the forces that had come between them and now Caladel was a permanent reminder that their love was real and binding. Why hadn't Legolas ever told him? He understood that things had been complicated back then with his new marriage to Arwen and the foreboding presence of Elrond, but that shouldn't have stood in the elf's way when he was determined.

And now…now Legolas was raising _his _child with Eomer. The king of Rohan dared to stand out in public, practically spitting on all of the treaties between their two realms as well as their personal friendship, with his arms around _his _true love and _his _son. What's more, Eomer was about to marry the love of _Aragorn's _life and he was wearing the ring that the king of Gondor had always known was destined for _him_. Most damnable of all, _his _son was calling Eomer 'Papa' and Legolas apparently found nothing wrong with this. Eomer was living the life that should have been _his_!

The Man wanted to look away from the soul-crushing image but it was too devastatingly enthralling to tear his eyes away. It couldn't be true; Legolas had to have been brainwashed, or else Eomer was blackmailing him or threatening to separate him from Caladel. That couldn't be love that he was seeing in the elf's eyes…

"Legolas?" Aragorn called out in a shaking voice.

It was time: there was no way that Legolas could put off facing Aragorn – facing them all – any longer. The prince hugged Caladel close one more time and then ever-so-slowly put him down. "Caladel, I want you to go back inside," he instructed his son, successfully sounding as if nothing in the world was wrong. "Go back to the study if you would and see to it that your grandfather and Gimli behave themselves from now on. Perhaps if you make your eyes go all big and stare up at them sadly enough they won't be able to bicker anymore."

"Excuse me?" a boy's voice that did not belong to his son floated up to the elf's ears.

Legolas looked over to see that young Eldarion was staring back at him with a mixture of curiosity and hopefulness. The Gondorian boy usually didn't pay attention to when his parents were talking to other grown-up – _especially _grown-ups that had titles like king, prince, lord, and anything else that indicated that they were boring nobles and/or droning politicians – but the entrance of someone his age his age had begun to stir his interests and he'd listened more closely to his parents and uncles' conversation than he normally did. Then when another grown-up had come out he'd been in a position to watch more closely out of the corner of his eye; and when his father had called the newcomer elf "Legolas" – as in the famous Legolas who was always in his father's stories – he'd been intrigued enough to abandon his game with his sister entirely and join the adults.

With Silmariën at his heels he'd wiggled his way to stand in front of his mother and father just in time to hear this Legolas utter a name that was even dearer in Eldarion's heart. "Pardon me for interrupting," said the young prince most politely when he realized that he had the elf's attention, "but did you say that Gimli is here?"

"Yes, he came for the wedding," said Legolas awkwardly, for it was strange for him to be speaking to one of Aragorn's children with Arwen. Before now they'd just been concepts in his mind and had never quite seemed real. "He's inside right now, or what's left of him anyway; I did leave him with my father."

"Gimli and Grandfather don't get along too well," clarified Caladel when he saw that the other boy was confused. "There's nothing to worry about, though. They don't hit each other or anything – they just insult each other."

"Wonderful!" declared Eldarion, rushing up the stairs to where Legolas, Caladel, and Eomer were standing. Silmariën followed and an interested Caladel squirmed eagerly until his ada had to put him down. "Not that he's fighting with your grandfather, of course. It's just that it's been over a year since we've seen Gimli, though he sends us messages and stuff a lot."

"Me too," piped up Caladel. "I hear from him a lot too, I mean. Before a week ago it had only been a few months since I've seen him, not a year. My name's Caladel."

"I'm Eldarion, and this is my little sister Silmariën," replied Eldarion, patting the toddler fondly on the head as if she were a much loved pet dog instead of his sibling. "She's all right, for a little child; but I'm a lot older than her and most of the time she can't understand the games we're playing. How old are you?"

"I'm five," Caladel told him. Everyone there save the children drew in a breath.

Eldarion nodded seriously and then grinned broadly. "Me too!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Oh, we should have a lot of fun then. I turned five last month; we had a big party. It's too bad that we didn't know each other back then – you could have come."

"Well, happy birthday anyway," responded Caladel nicely. "I would have invited you to my birthday party too. I'm a little older than you; my birthday's in February."

Aragorn, Arwen, and Elrohir all silently did the math in their heads. A February birth put Legolas' conception date at roughly the same time that he, Aragorn, and Gimli had been traveling with the Rohirrim during the War. The dates solidified even more when they took into consideration that Arwen had delivered all of her children late and therefore figured that all elf pregnancies that involved mortals weren't as long as they normally were; taking the mortal nine months instead of twelve but needing a little extra time nonetheless. This all but proved to Aragorn that Caladel was truly his son while Arwen and Elrohir found that this confirmed the difficult situation that they'd guessed had driven their friend away. Of the four of them only Elladan didn't need to calculate any numbers – he'd known from another reliable source the truth since the moment that he first saw Legolas' child.

"My Queen Arwen," Eowyn cleared her throat. She cast a meaningful gaze at the three children when she saw that she had the she-elf's attention. "Perhaps it would be advisable to have Eldarion and Silmariën go with Caladel to visit with Gimli. We have a lot of…boring, grown-up things to discuss that would be…boring for them to have to sit through."

"Yes," murmured Arwen ponderously. "I do believe that would probably be best. Go on now, my children. Have fun with Caladel, bid Gimli hello, and tell that sweet, errant dwarf that we will be meeting up with him later to discuss his absence from the White City as of late."

"Oh, Gimli's in trouble," grinned Eldarion, nudging Caladel playfully. "Thank you, Nana! Goodbye, Father!"

With that Eldarion bolted to the door, enthused at this unexpected but welcome turn of events. He only stopped when he realized that Caladel was taking the time to lead the toddler Silmariën kindly by the hand. At a much slower pace the secret siblings disappeared into the Golden Hall of Meduseld and left their families to face the past at last.

Legolas watched wistfully after the children until they were out of sight. _'Caladel is a natural older brother,' _he realized, melancholy. With them gone the elf forced himself to look upon his lover and his friends of old. He wanted badly to focus on Arwen or one of the twins – the faces that he had desired to see all along and still now when he couldn't stand to see the pity for him and Caladel that by now had even seeped into Elladan's expression – but his eyes, of their own volition, strayed to Aragorn's face.

The Man's piercing gray eyes bore holes into him and the elf was dismayed to feel emotions that had long been dormant stirring within him again. No, no, this couldn't be – he didn't want to feel anything for Aragorn; not love, not hatred, nothing that would indicate that the Man had any power over him at all. There was a lot of unfinished business between them, however, and that combined with the facts that Aragorn was his first love, someone that he'd spent decades pining for, and that he was the reason why Legolas had Caladel at all made feeling _nothing_ for him impossible. All right, maybe he couldn't be completely indifferent to the king's presence but why did what he did feel have to be so strong? The elf suddenly found that it was difficult to breathe. His knees were feeling very weak and he doubted that they would be able to support his weight all the way down the stairs.

Then Eomer slipped his hand into his and Legolas felt sweet air fill his lungs once more. The strength returned to his legs. He looked up into his new love's face and saw nothing but love and support there. That was the push that he needed and together the couple descended the staircase until they stood at Eowyn and Faramir's side. "Hello," said Legolas quietly, uncertain about how else to start. "Whatever reasons brought you here I'm glad that you came. Much has happened since the last time that we saw each other."

"That's obvious," said Aragorn in a choked tone. He had had a plan all worked out about how to handle this moment; but Caladel's appearance and Legolas' outward indifference to him was throwing him off kilter, making any movement more demanding than breathing in and out a struggle.

"I'll second that," concurred Elrohir, stepping forward and looking imploringly into his friend's eyes. "Legolas, I…I don't know where to begin. I suppose I could start by asking you about the biggest surprise of all today: Caladel. He's…he's…your…you were – you knew you were pregnant when you vanished, didn't you?"

The elf nodded and offered him a tentative but nostalgic smile. "I was two months along," he confirmed.

"And King Eomer is his sire?" continued Elrohir. No verbal answer came but Legolas did nod in the affirmative. "I just can't – during the funeral procession Arwen guessed that you two were involved but I must confess I saw no real sign of it. Estel, you denied it back then too; can you think back onto any clues now that you've been proven wrong?"

"None," stated Aragorn, his eyes never leaving Legolas' face.

"As Elrohir said, I did believe that you two were more than just friends," spoke up Arwen, unable to keep her concern out of her voice, "and even I couldn't see that you and he were _so _deeply involved."

"We weren't," Legolas told her plainly but did not offer any more details.

At this Eowyn rolled her eyes. She'd spent a long time interrogating Eomer and Legolas both separately and together after finding out that the elf was her brother's fiancé and then meeting Caladel. They had answered her questions in vague wayswhich had allowed her to draw her own conclusions; some of which didn't coincide with the story that they'd told Thranduil months earlier and none of them correct, although of course the pair hadn't saw fit to tell her. "They'd agreed not to get too serious," she broke in exasperatedly, seeing that her brother and his fiancé wasn't going to be any more open with them as they were with her. There was no reason to prolong this if she could speed it along. "All they meant to do was find comfort with each other during the evil times of the War."

Slowly, deliberately, they all turned to look at her. "When the War ended so did their agreement," she went on. "It was weeks later when Legolas discovered that he was pregnant. He panicked and didn't want to make my brother feel obligated to marry someone whom he didn't love – because, of course, my dear, thick-skulled brother was too much of a fool to tell him how much he truly cared for him – or be forced into a hasty marriage himself. Nor did he want to risk a war between his people and Rohan by returning to his realm in his condition. So instead he decided to spend five years in Fangorn Forest of all places, giving birth to my nephew there in the meantime, before an eored found them. They came here to live and while Eomer got to know Caladel and he and Legolas learned to be parents together they ended up falling in love."

Elrohir looked at Legolas cautiously. "Is that true, Legolas?" he asked.

"It is; a large part of why I left was because I knew in my heart that I couldn't depend on Caladel's sire," he replied, his flashing eyes shifting to give Aragorn an angry, defiant glare. Then he looked away, turning to Eomer and smiling at his fiancé. "But Eomer has proven to be everything that Caladel needed in another father and more."

Aragorn opened his mouth but Arwen, not seeing this, beat him to speaking. "But why didn't you talk to one of us about this before deciding to go off on your own?" she asked pleadingly. "You could have come back to Gondor or gone to Rivendell. There would have been people in either place that would have been happy to help you. You couldn't have gotten much help in Fangorn Forest."

"Caladel and I managed," said Legolas with a hint of a wry smile. "Ents are loyal to a fault when you give them no reason not to be, and they are caring in their own way. And I couldn't have gone to Gondor or Rivendell." _'As the two people I wanted never to see again were in those places,' _he silently added. "I was tired, Arwen, tired of berating myself for letting things go so far; tired for obsessing over all of the dire consequences of what happened; and tired of hearing in my mind people scorning and insulting my child for something that he had no control over."

"We couldn't have judged you or him," Elrohir told him, hurt that Legolas would have ever thought otherwise. "We'd have been worried, of course, but never judgmental."

"I just wanted to go somewhere where I would be free to be proud of my baby," professed Legolas with a slight tremble in his voice. "I know that you wouldn't have been so cruel, but others would have been. People love to think bad about children whose sires can't be bothered by them" – he sent another discreet pointed look Aragorn's way – "and I wanted Caladel to be away from all of that. I wish now that Eomer had been in our lives the entire time. I can't undo the past, however; all I can do is ask you to try to understand and not hate me."

"Oh, Legolas," said Arwen emotionally, embracing him. Elrohir joined them as well, though Elladan never made any move to hug his long-missing friend. "We're your family – we will always try to understand and we could never hate you."

Aragorn was not welcomed into the reunion embrace. In fact, any attempt the Man made from there on out to so much as touch Legolas was discreetly but unfailingly rebuffed. Arwen and Elrohir wondered at this, but only for a little while. The reason for it, they guessed, was all along Aragorn hadn't been as ignorant of Legolas' involvement with Eomer during the War as he claimed. Perhaps he'd counseled against it and grown harsh when Legolas had refused to listen. That would certainly explain the Man's violently opposed reaction to the wedding, as well as why he'd denied it so vehemently when Arwen had first suggested it during King Theoden's funeral procession. That could also explain why Legolas had been so reluctant to contact them before now – he'd probably figured Aragorn's position on the matter hadn't changed. All that Elrohir and the queen could hope for was that the two stubborn souls could see past their conflict and find some sort of resolution.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Dinner that night was low-key but fraught with a tension that everyone felt but silently explained away to themselves. Caladel, Eldarion, and to some extent Silmariën knew that their parents had been fretting about this reunion and decided that it was nothing to worry about, certainly nothing that would or should interfere with their surprisingly quick bonding. Pippin, Sam, and Merry understood that it had taken some time for Legolas to contact Aragorn and figured that the heaviness of the atmosphere was due to the Man's hurt feelings and the elf's penitence; Eowyn and Faramir knew it was quite a bit more complicated than that but resolved not to let it get to them until or unless they had no choice and therefore spent the mealtime conversing with the hobbits. Arwen and Elrohir used the opportunity to interrogate Legolas and Eomer further about their relationship; they knew they were coming across a bit too strong – even though they couldn't help themselves from doing it – and guessed that the tension was from the couple feeling overwhelmed and a little embarrassed.

In that dining hall, however, there were people that knew the truth, or else were guessing uncomfortably close to it. Elladan stewed silently, picking at his food and trying to incorporate in his mind what he had already known before the wedding invitation came with what he knew in his heart to be true now. Thranduil and Gimli were for once not bickering, for both were too preoccupied with keeping an eye on Aragorn. The dwarf was not sure how much his former friend had deduced about the Man's connection to Caladel and didn't trust him not to try to foil Legolas' happiness; the elven king was letting memories of a long-ago summer siege his mind as he plotted what his next move should be.

As for the Man who was the subject of their discreet scrutiny, he'd spent every moment since first laying eyes on Legolas trying to get his love's attention. Aragorn needed to get Legolas alone, to talk to him and get an explanation about Caladel, his disappearance, his relationship with Eomer, everything. He was certain that once it was just the two of them he would get to the bottom of this and be able to get Legolas and _their _son back to Minas Tirith where they belonged.

Legolas would have none of it from him, though. With a pointed, muted anger he'd ignored Aragorn, or at least tried to. There had been a few times when he'd look away from what he'd been doing and accidentally lock eyes with the Man; then, invariably, emotions that he didn't understand and didn't like stirred within him and made him tear his gaze away. He didn't want this; he didn't want to feel _anything _for Aragorn. Legolas loved Eomer – he _knew_ that much – and he hated how the Gondorian's presence was bringing emotions that he'd long since pushed down to the surface once more.

Thankfully for all of them the meal was over with fairly quickly and Meduseld, in preparation for the big event the next day, settled down early that night. After permitting Eowyn to claim Caladel for the hour or two before his bedtime so that the boy could get to know his Uncle Faramir, Legolas and Eomer bid their guests a good night's rest and slipped off to the study. They'd planned soon after their engagement to spend the last of the evening before the wedding before they retired together there to relax and enjoy each other's company; yet their minds were now full of troubling matters and neither felt very relaxed or joyful at all.

"What a trying day!" declared Legolas with forced casualness once they were safely inside with the door shut quietly behind them. "It was…wonderful to see everyone like that again; I suppose it's been years since all of the members of the Fellowship that still remain in Middle-earth have been gathered together like this, and all of the others as well! Yet I for one will be very glad come tomorrow night at this time, when we're finally married and given a few days by ourselves. Don't you agree, melethnin?"

No answer came. "Eomer?" Legolas asked, turning to seek out his fiancé.

The Man was sitting silently and very still on the sofa, his hands clasped loosely on his lap as he stared ahead at nothing that Legolas' sharp elven eyes could see. "Eomer?" asked Legolas once more. "Beloved, what is the matter?"

"You need to set things straight with Aragorn," uttered Eomer in a voice that was not a command. Rather, it sounded as if it was something he was only beginning to allow himself to admit and was resigned to even though there was nothing else in the world that he'd rather _not _happen more.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas incredulously, managing to keep his panic at bay. The last thing that he needed was to talk to Aragorn in any way. Why would Eomer think otherwise? "Eomer, I know that things are a little awkward between me and him, what with us not being friends anymore" –

"I know that Aragorn is Caladel's blood sire, Legolas," said Eomer simply even though this was one of the hardest things that he'd ever had to say and do in his life. He was risking his heart, his soul, his love, his son, and his _life_ but this couldn't be allowed to fester under the surface any longer, not if they were going to be able to get on with their lives.

Legolas dropped down on the sofa beside him, stunned beyond belief. "What?" he croaked out, staring dumbly at the Man. "How? When?"

"You know the 'what', my love," said Eomer, trying to be wry as he looked down at his hands. "As for the 'when', well, I've never admitted it to myself before now but in truth I've guessed it since first you told me about your falling out with Aragorn and how Caladel's blood sire deserted you."

"I thought I was being so careful," said Legolas faintly.

"You were as careful as you could be without outright lying to me," replied Eomer. "I respect that about you, Legolas; it would have been much easier for you to hide in a comfortable lie. But that's how I figured it out too. I know you both you and Aragorn: he would never betray a friend in a decision about the rule of Gondor unless he had no other option and you would never abandon a friend over a political decision that you yourself could admit that there was merit in. So the both the decision he made and the betrayal you felt had to be personal; and the pieces fell together from there. There were other signs too."

"His constant inquiries about me?" supplied Legolas, feeling resentful of his former lover's constant intrusion in his life even when he was in exile.

"Yes, there was that," nodded Eomer. "Something also happened on the last day of my uncle's funeral procession. The two of us were riding together and you were telling me about how strangely Lord Elladan had been acting, requesting that you come up and ask me a frivolous question while he took Gimli over to his siblings and Aragorn. I glanced back at them and saw Aragorn giving me this look: it was so intense, sad, forlorn, and jealous. I didn't understand it at the time, but now…"

The elf's heart twisted. "If you knew or guessed then why didn't you tell me before now?" he demanded.

"Because then I would have known for sure," Eomer told him heavily. "Instead of having Legolas and his child in Edoras I would have been concealing the king of Gondor's illegitimate son; and that would have made everything much more complicated. And I didn't _want_ to know – I wanted it to be just the three of us and no one else who could destroy that for us. Yet, in a way this has been hanging over our heads and now that he's here we can't ignore it anymore. That's why you must talk to him."

Legolas was feeling increasingly more helpless and it was getting harder and harder not to show it. "All right, Aragorn is Caladel's blood sire – I admit that," he said imploringly. "But that doesn't change the fact that _you _are _our _son's true sire. You don't think of him as not being your son now, do you?"

"Of course I don't."

"And neither do I," reasoned Legolas in desperation. "It's not as if Aragorn needs an illegitimate child from a relationship that he didn't bother to tell anyone about in his life, either. So why does it matter? Why can't our lives continue on as they have been?"

"There is a lot of unfinished business between you and Aragorn," pointed out Eomer painfully. "Feelings that have gone unresolved…a history that I can't compete with."

"Do you think that I don't love you?" cried Legolas in frustration. A horrible thought occurred to him and tears started falling from his eyes. "I do – I love you; to the bottom of my heat and soul I, Legolas Thranduilion, am in love with you, Eomer Eadig. I want so badly to marry you; do you not want to marry me?"

That last heartbreaking question finally made Eomer's head snap up and he looked at the one he loved. "More than anything," the Man proclaimed passionately. He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding through his nose and cupped Legolas' emotion-filled face. "I love you; I'm not saying these things because I don't or because I think that you don't love me. I can see in your eyes how much you do love me." He tenderly traced the outline of one side of the elf's face, his hand lingering on his cheek as he felt the moisture there. "But you've never confronted your feelings for Aragorn or dealt with them – only buried them until you just thought that they were no longer an issue. They are, however; they still exist is some form and we can't get married until you understand what they are and how strongly you still feel them. It wouldn't be fair to either of us – or Caladel – if we did."

"No…"

"I am not leaving you," asserted Eomer. "I will wait for you, my love. I don't need you to conquer all your emotions or wait until you can truthfully claim that you feel absolutely nothing for him at all; you just have to know – and I have to know – is if your love for me is stronger than what you feel for him."

"Eomer," said Legolas in dismay, still shaking his head.

The Man took both of his hands, kissed them, and then gently let them go. Legolas knew that this was one of the most difficult things that his fiancé had ever done, and that he was taking a leap of faith by putting the strength of the bond between them up against the weight and history of his relationship with Aragorn. Yet that knowledge didn't make accepting this less hard for the elf. Faltering a bit, he rose to his feet and headed toward the door, all the while waiting for Eomer to call after him and beg him to forget everything that he had just said except for the parts about their love. No such call came, however, not even after he stepped out into the corridor and stood hopefully on the other side of the closed door.

When he realized that Eomer was really letting him go Legolas wandered a bit through the corridors, shocked and despairing. Why was this happening when happiness and love had been right there for him to live and enjoy? _'Aragorn,' _he thought. _'Aragorn and these stupid lingering feeling that I have for him.'_ Anger washed over the elf. He had worked hard to achieve this sort of happiness for himself and Caladel and had been blessed enough to fall in love with a wonderful Man along the way. He had to do whatever he needed to do to hold on to that, even if that meant dealing with Aragorn once and for all.

Resolved now, he stormed into the guest quarters, glaring at all of the doors until he found the one that he was looking for and pounded on it with so much force that his first stung. He steeled himself when it swung open to reveal Aragorn standing there. "Is Arwen in?" he demanded.

"Are you all right?" asked Aragorn in alarm as he took in Legolas' tearstained, devastated, and furious face."

"Where's Arwen?" reiterated Legolas with a hard edge in his voice.

"She went for a walk with the twins on the city's grounds," replied Aragorn. "Legolas, what happen" –

"What about Eldarion and your daughters?" pressed Legolas.

"They're visiting with Gimli before bedtime," answered Aragorn, frantically trying to figure out what had put his love in that kind of a state. "What did Eomer" –

Legolas ignored his question and insinuations; and instead pushed past the Man into the bedchamber. "Good," he declared, staring intently at his former lover. "It's time that you and I had a chat."

Aragorn shut the door and walked over to him. "I couldn't agree more."

To be continued…

_A/N: Wow - this story now has over 500 reviews. Thank you so much!_

_A/N: A few people have asked me questions about the possibility of me writing an alternative version/ending of this story. I'll answer these later, I promise; let me get to the end of this first! _:) _That's coming in about three chapters, not including any appendices I might be adding._


	34. Entangled webs

Hot resolve welled up inside of Aragorn as he watched Legolas storm halfway across the bedchamber, halt suddenly, and whip around to glare at him. The Man took one look at that furious expression, defensive body language, half-crazed gleam in those blue eyes, and moisture on both pale cheeks and knew that something horrible had happened between the end of dinner and now. There was no other explanation for it – he'd known and loved Legolas for a very long time and he'd _never _seen the prince with his emotions so, well, exposed before; and Aragorn had no doubt in his mind who was the cause of it.

"Legolas, tell me what happened," he urged as he walked over to him. Oh, what a fool he had been to wonder why his love had been acting so coldly toward him! But perhaps that had been a part of Legolas' plan the entire time, to hide his true intentions in this treacherous situation until they could talk alone.

Legolas didn't answer him at first; he was too preoccupied with breathing heavily through his nose. Aragorn felt a particularly strong surge of fury to see Legolas so angry and upset that he was having too much trouble controlling his breathing to speak. He reached up to lovingly caress the elf's cheek. "What did" –

The threat of physical contact was enough to jar Legolas out of his efforts to control his emotions and he harshly smacked Aragorn's hand away before it could connect with flesh. "Don't," he warned in an even tone, struggling to maintain a completely false façade of being at least partially calm. "I came here because I have to talk to you, but first we need to get one thing straight: you are not going to touch me. Do you understand: that _can't _happen, and next time you try something worse is going to happen to whatever part you try to touch me with."

"You're safe here," insisted Aragorn sympathetically and protectively. It was obvious to him that Legolas' demeanor was bordering on hysterical, for why else would the elf actually believe that whatever spies Eomer might have could see what they were doing in the privacy of the guest chamber? His poor, poor love – it was clear that he must have been living in terror for a heartbreakingly long time. "Everything's going to be all right."

"I know," said Legolas in a terse tone, still fighting the internal battle between keeping his emotions in check and letting them take control. "That's why I'm here; I can't let this continue."

Now they were getting somewhere. "No, you can't," agreed Aragorn, his voice determined. "It's all right, melanin; it's over now. I'm here and I'm going to make sure that Eomer never hurts you or Caladel again."

"What?" demanded Legolas sharply.

"It's plain to see that Eomer did something horrible to you," declared Aragorn as rage burned within him. "Tell me and I will make him pay. Does he beat you? Has he been holding you and Caladel prisoner? Oh Valar, is he threatening to make sure that you never see Caladel again if you don't marry him? You can tell me, Legolas; and together the two of us can find Caladel right now and get you both out of here. I'm going to take care of you both from now on."

Legolas stared at him incredulously for a moment or two before he started to laugh. It was not the beautiful, melodic laughter that the prince had when he was happy but rather something that was free of good cheer and fully of sarcasm. "This has to be the Valar's cruelest joke on me yet," he chortled, shaking his head. Why had he been so determined to control his emotions? It seemed that Aragorn wasn't going to acknowledge the truth unless he hit the Man over the head with it. "I don't know which notion is so absurd: the idea that Caladel and I need you to be our brave avenger or that Eomer would actually do anything to make that role necessary."

"Maybe you should sit down," suggested Aragorn in a calm, soothing tone that barely betrayed the growing anxiety he had about his love's uncharacteristic behavior.

"I'll have you know that if I thought that anyone posed even the slightest threat to my son's well being there wouldn't be enough left of him after I got through with him for anyone else to do vengeance," Legolas went on as if the Man hadn't spoken at all. "And as for what Eomer's done to me, Aragorn, that's no secret: he loves me. He accepts me, he understands me, and he has been nothing but kind to both me and Caladel."

"We both know that's not true," responded Aragorn gently. He knew that it wasn't in Legolas' nature to seek help or even admit there was a problem; but he was more than ready to coax the whole tale out of him bit by bit, as that knowledge would more than likely be key to saving his love and newfound son.

The elf nodded his head rapidly. "You're right: he did do something to upset me," he conceded, enraged when he saw hope creeping into Aragorn's expression. "He told me that I have to sort things out with you and that we can't start our life together until I do so. My fiancé essentially let me go so that I could find out if my feelings for you would get in the way of our marriage."

"That's…that's _wonderful_," breathed Aragorn. After all of those years he and Legolas were finally getting some good luck. He didn't know what was behind Eomer's change of heart – perhaps it was seeing how he much he was hurting his so-called fiancé by keeping him from his true love – but for whatever reason the Man was just grateful that the other king had regained his sense of decency.

"I fail to see how," groused Legolas.

"You're always so politically-minded," commented the Man without a care in the world. "There's not going to be any bad blood between Gondor and Rohan if he let you go! When we" –

"There is no 'we' anymore, Aragorn," interrupted Legolas peevishly. "Dear Elbereth, do you ever listen to yourself? Or to anyone else, for that matter? You've decided you've got everything all figured out and either turn a deaf ear or misinterpret anything that contradicts your view. Well, I'm not going to play along with you tonight or ever again! Understand this: _I don't want Eomer to let me go_. I want to marry him tomorrow, just like he and I planned."

"If that's true then why are you here with me instead somewhere else with him?" debated Aragorn with maddening logic.

It took what was left of a frustrated Legolas' tattered control not to hit him. "Because I need to set things straight with you before we can get married!" he reminded him fiercely. "Because you had to show up, as you have a tendency to do just when I'm getting my life in order, and complicate everything."

"I – I don't understand, Legolas," professed Aragorn, honestly bewildered. "Why do you want to marry him? I know we were torn apart, but we still love each other! Something as powerful and intense as our love will never go away. So why are you doing this to yourself? I may have been forced into a loveless marriage but that doesn't mean you have to suffer the same fate."

"It won't _be_ a loveless marriage!" Legolas practically screamed, furious and extremely annoyed. His hand trembled as he clenched his fists and pointed a finger at Aragorn. "I've made it perfectly clear that I do love Eomer. Why can't you accept that? What, do you think you're _so _magnificent that I could never possibly fall in love with someone else even after you threw me away like a piece of garbage?"

Aragorn felt his cheeks start to burn. Legolas knew that he'd pierced through the thick layer of self-delusion and struck a nerve. "That is _not _what happened," the king asserted with a quiet but concentrated forcefulness. "Don't tell me that you've forgotten how my father and Arwen did everything in their power to keep us apart!"

"I don't believe this; but why am I so surprised?" Legolas asked himself aloud. His voice was laced with a dark type of amusement – if _amusement _was the correct word for it, as he didn't sound as if he found his new revelation funny, but rather painfully ironic. "You've obviously had some grand romantic drama starring the two of us running through your imagination for quite some time. If it helps you endure your real life, congratulations; but don't project it on me because I want no part of it."

The Man opened his mouth to speak but Legolas waved his hand impatiently. "You still don't understand it, Aragorn: we weren't 'torn apart' by Lord Elrond and Arwen's dastardly schemes, or by the cruelness of the world, or whatever else you've managed to convince yourself. We are no longer together because you didn't possess enough courage or willpower to stand up to your father when the time came for you to fight for what we had."

"You are accusing me of not fighting for our love?" demanded Aragorn defensively, a lump rising in his throat. "Well, I don't recall _you_ making any grand gestures on our behalf."

"Because you just came to me after making love to me and then leaving our bed and told me that one of my oldest and dearest friends was dying because she had sacrificed her immortality for you and you had to marry her for it," shot back Legolas.

"Ada didn't exactly break the news to me gently either," said Aragorn.

Legolas would have none of it. "You were in King Theoden's tent with him for a long time," he snapped. "There was plenty of time for it to sink in. You didn't give me a chance to figure things out; you didn't even ask me how I felt about it or if I thought you should marry her or not – you just told me that we could no longer be together anymore, made some comment about how we had been so happy; and then like that you were gone, off to risk life and limb for her while leaving me behind to deal with the sudden end of a relationship I'd planned to spend the rest of my days in."

"She gave up everything she had because she thought I loved her," asserted Aragorn, getting sufficiently irate when no empathy came to the elf's expression. He hadn't expected this verbal attack from Legolas and was left feeling a little betrayed by it, especially after all the years he'd spent obsessing over the mistakes he'd had to make due to outside pressure. "What would you have had me do?"

"I would have had you be a little more explicit as to why you were giving that necklace back to her before the Fellowship left Rivendell," replied Legolas hotly. It was strange, but in a way he actually felt better now that he was finally voicing all of his grievances and frustrations to their source. "But since you failed to do that I would have had you not act as if our relationship was some torrid affair to be swept under the rug once our _real _significant other comes back into your life."

How could Legolas condemn him so unfeelingly? Hadn't he _defended_ him to everyone who implied that their relationship was nothing more than a shameful indiscretion? "It wasn't that simple," insisted Aragorn. "I had obligations to her" –

"I don't believe that anymore," Legolas cut him off. "No matter how vague you made your reasons for it to Arwen, you did break off your relationship with her; and both of us thought that she had already taken a ship to the Undying Lands. We weren't doing anything wrong and yet in everything you did you made it perfectly clear that you were ashamed of what happened between the two of us. I'm not just talking about you leaving me either; it was already there before that in the way you decided that we had to keep our love a secret for the sake of Arwen's reputation."

This was unbelievable! "You were her friend and I was close to being bound to her," Aragorn sputtered. "How would it have reflected on her if the two of us publicly declared that we're desperately in love so soon after her departure?"

"She was supposedly going to Valinor! Middle-earth is but a memory there – she wouldn't have cared what people here were gossiping about." The look of pained frustration on Legolas' face suddenly gave way to another pain, this one born of understanding. "Ai Elbereth; I get it. I finally get it. It's so simple; I should have seen it a long time ago."

"What?" asked Aragorn, half angry at Legolas' lack of care and half fearful about what could possibly be coming next.

"Keeping our relationship a secret wasn't about protecting her reputation; it was about protecting yours as a noble and honorable person," Legolas told him simply. "It's certainly noble and honorable to chastely court a lady and wear the jewel that she gave you into war. It's also speaks well to your nobility and honor that you went out of your way to shield her reputation. And it's far nobler and more honorable to _reluctantly _sacrifice everything that makes you happy than to seize your own happiness when it could displease others."

"I did what I thought was right," Aragorn practically growled.

"You did what you did because it was nobler for you to leave me for her than it was for you to stay with me," stated Legolas with a degree of chilly finality. "It wasn't honorable for you to have sex with me before we were officially bound, or to harbor a supposedly deep-set love for someone else while courting another. If anyone ever found out about it your reputation wouldn't have been so pristine and you'd spent far too long building it to give it up so easily."

Aragorn wanted desperately to deny Legolas' accusation, to say they were outrageous and that he was insulted that the elf could even think that; but somewhere deep down he knew that it was at least partially true. He _had_ wanted to appear noble and honorable; not so much in the eyes of the public at large but in his father's mind. The Man looked over and saw Legolas staring at him with such condemnation; and suddenly anger began to mingle with his guilt. After all, he might have done something for in part the wrong reason but he wasn't the only one there who was guilty of that. "Is that why you kept the fact that I have another son from me for all of these years?" he demanded.

"How do you know he's your son?" returned Legolas coldly in an eerily calm voice. "Eomer claims that Caladel is his son and everyone else accepts that. How do you know I was faithful to you during the War? Are you so certain that while you were preparing to take the Paths of the Dead I wasn't slipping into Eomer's tent for a fling? I'd only had sex once that night, after all; maybe I was such a little whore that I required more physical gratification!"

"Stop that!" cried Aragorn, horrified. Dear Valar, who had planted such hateful notions of himself in Legolas' head? His face and tone softened as he regarded his love. "I won't tolerate_ anyone_ calling you that, even you. I know you, Legolas; you aren't the type of being who sleeps with more than one person, especially when that would mean you're cheating on someone. Nor are you so needy and casual about who you're intimate with that you'd go from one Man's bed to another's in the course of less than an hour. Your faithfulness and integrity were never a question in my mind."

For the first time since he'd charged into the Man's bedchamber Legolas was so stunned he didn't know what to say. That seed of doubt that Aragorn would believe in his fidelity, planted the night that Elrond had indirectly questioned it, had taken root and grown in the elf's mind until he had become convinced that it would be a major point of contention. Finding out that Aragorn belief in it and him even after coming to Rohan and finding out Legolas had a son who called Eomer 'Papa' profoundly shamed him.

"You are Caladel's blood sire," he admitted quietly. He wasn't sure why he was giving up that secret so easily but it felt important somehow that Aragorn know the truth. "He was conceived our – our last night together at Dunharrow; but I was so distraught over losing you that I didn't have enough wits left to realize I was pregnant until the night before King Theoden's funeral procession set out from Minas Tirith."

"And your sorrow turned into anger," noted Aragorn. Legolas felt some comfort in knowing that the king understood his state of mind back then. That, however, was short-lived, for Aragorn went on to accuse: "Then you kept it a secret to punish me for choosing Arwen and not you."

"That's not" –

"Admit it or I will never believe anything you say again," challenged the Man darkly.

Apparently his feelings of shame, remorse, and hope had come to him too soon. Legolas bristled at the blow that Aragorn had managed to strike when his guard was down. "Fine," he spat out resentfully. "A part – a _small_ part – of me decided that you could have my child after you'd already decided that you didn't want to have me. But whether you believe it or not that truly wasn't the reason why I didn't tell you. I was so afraid, Aragorn; afraid that you'd take him from me, or else force us both to stay in Minas Tirith, thus exposing him and me both to the ridicule and scorn people usually have for known lovers on the side and illegitimate children."

"I wouldn't have let that happen," Aragorn told him, carefully side-stepping having to deny he wouldn't have insisted that Legolas stay if he'd known the elf was pregnant. What he would have done if Legolas had still been determined to leave Aragorn truly couldn't say; he hoped he would have made the right decision, but what would that have been?

"How could you have stopped it?" asked Legolas insistently. "You may be a king but there is no way you can stop people from doing what they do unless you put the fear of painful retribution in them, and doing that would have turned you into a tyrant."

"I would have found a way," retorted the Man obstinately. "You're a very stubborn person, Legolas, and I respect that you like to take care of whatever's bothering you on your own but you have taken it too far. You should have trusted me."

Legolas couldn't contain his sardonic scoff. "If you'll remember, trusting you was how I ended up pregnant and alone in the first place," he pointed out in a hard voice. He sucked in a deep breath and steadied his beleaguered nerves. "Aragorn, you'd already moved on – perhaps not in your heart but certainly in your body and life. It felt like my soul was dying to witness that. I had to trust in myself and what I thought; and I couldn't see how there could ever be a place for me and Caladel in your life. I made the best decision I could."

"I helped create Caladel!" asserted Aragorn, strong in his righteous indignation. "That makes me his father too, and the decision you made was not best for me. I should have been consulted before you up and left with him! Honestly Legolas, what gave you the sole right to decide what was best in the matter?"

"Well, I suppose it was the same insight, or knowledge, or divine permission, or whatever else it was that granted you leave to decide that it was best to end our relationship in the first place!" Legolas fired back, feeling particularly hostile. If there was one thing he'd always known, even when he doubted everything else, was that he was a good father; and it made him furious beyond measure to have Aragorn of all people question that. "It certainly wasn't best for me when you broke my heart."

Aragorn's jaw clenched. "That was entirely different," he said.

"Of course it was different – it happened to me and not you," agreed Legolas sarcastically. "The fact is when you made your _best decision_ Arwen benefited because she got to marry the person she loved; you benefited because you got to keep your reputation intact; and I lost something I held dear. With my _best decision_ Caladel benefited because he doesn't have to be known as the illegitimate child of the married king and his brazen lover; I benefited because I got to get away from your and Arwen's marital bliss; and you suffered in the same way I did after Dunharrow. It's hard being the one whose tossed aside for the happiness and reputation of others, but your pain isn't any more sharp or real than mine was."

"I thought you understood why I decided to marry her," said Aragorn forcefully but with a hint of pleading in his tone.

"I did – I still do," Legolas told him, throwing his hands up in the air. "That's not the point. Understanding you and your motivations was never my problem; I just expected more from you than that."

Aragorn's skin grew cold suddenly as he looked at Legolas with muted horror. There was that awful sentiment again, the one that his father, Arwen, his brothers, and almost everyone else had used to essentially control his actions. He'd thought he'd finally escaped it; hearing it now from the last person he'd ever thought would utter it made him feel like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Not you too, mela," he moaned miserably. "I can't handle you turning on me too with how I failed to meet your expectations."

"Don't do that – don't take all of the issues you have with your family and try to make me feel guilty about them," cautioned Legolas wearily. He ran a hand down his face and briefly covered his mouth as he regarded Aragorn with a tired, jaded look in his eyes. "I never expected you to be the great king of Gondor and Men, or the redeemer of the line of Elros and Isildur, or the all-around savior of Middle-earth, or anything else Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Arwen, or your brothers had in mind; but I did expect things from you. That's what happens when you profess to care about someone: they start expecting you to treat them with dignity and respect. People expect the people they love to be strong enough to stay with them when others want them to be apart. When we rekindled our relationship and I – I gave you my body to love I expected you to at least make an effort to keep what we had alive, and not just by hiding it away in your heart either."

"You're right," said Aragorn softly. Legolas nearly fell over in surprise. "I've lamented for years how I let myself fail you so utterly. It was the worst mistake I could have ever made giving you up so easily just to get the approval of someone who would never have given it to me. I'm sorry for that, Legolas."

He'd honestely never expected Aragorn to apologize, and hearing it now made him feel all the mroe better because of it. The elf deflated visibly as he let out a long breath. "I'm sorry too," he apologized in a calmer and quieter tone than he'd used in awhile. "I'm not particularly proud of many of the things I've done since you married Arwen. It didn't bring me any pleasure to forsake everyone I cared about so abruptly and cruelly; nor did I get any smug satisfaction from keeping Caladel's existence a secret from you."

Aragorn gave him an imploring gaze. "Why did you do it?" he asked, this time with no blame in his voice. "I know you were angry and afraid, but you've been angry and afraid before without sending yourself into exile."

"I guess I was trying to protect myself and everyone else," reasoned Legolas sadly. "My options back then were very limited and the consequences of all of the choices I could have made weren't pleasant, to say the least. I did what I did because it was the one thing it felt like I could do that wouldn't _completely _obliterate people's lives, either physically or emotionally. I'm not saying that I thought it wouldn't cause _any _pain, but this way seemed like a more…contained sort of pain."

"I hate that you kept all of this to yourself," lamented Aragorn. While now he could comprehend his love's motivations better and was (for the most part) no longer angry, he couldn't help feeling a little regretful about what they'd lost because of it. Fantasies were running through his mind about what might have happened if Legolas hadn't guarded his secret so closely. "I'll grant you that I wasn't exactly totally available for you to come to back then, but there were others you could have turned to. Elrohir and Elladan" –

"And I would have told them what?" broke in Legolas. "_My dear friends, I had sex with your foster brother before he became your sister's husband and now scant months after their wedding I find I'm bearing his love child_. I don't think that would have resulted in a very helpful conversation."

"Maybe not," admitted Aragorn begrudgingly. Elladan's behavior since Solstice was proof that he wouldn't have been too sympathetic to Legolas' predicament; and Elrohir didn't know anything about this, so it was hard to argue how he would have reacted one way or the other. "But you had other friends. What about Gimli?"

"Despite everything, I was still very enamored with you; I didn't want to be the reason why you got hurt," said Legolas with a roll of his eyes. "And I'm sure that having an enraged dwarf take an axe to your genitals would have hurt you."

Oh, yes; there was that. Perhaps the only thing that had saved him from Gimli's axe when the dwarf did find out (for now he was sure that Gimli knew where Legolas was when he had confronted the Man in Minas Tirith) was the fact that he had time between the discovering and seeing Aragorn as well as Legolas' need for discretion. "The hobbits, then?" he suggested.

Legolas just stared at him. "All right, it probably wouldn't have been prudent to tell one of them," Aragorn conceded to his silent protest. Frodo had just been through so much during that time in their lives and no one would have burdened him with more troubles than what was absolutely necessary. Sam had been too preoccupied with caring for the haunted hobbit to offer his undivided sympathy to someone else. As for Merry and Pippin…well, they possessed the chatty nature that all hobbits had; it was probably best not to share things that you'd rather remain a secret with either of them.

The Man thought for a moment. "What about my father?" he asked. "You could have told him. Yes, I know he's Arwen's father and that he wanted her and I to get married after finding out she was mortal, but he loved you too."

So this evening wasn't going to end until all of Legolas' old wounds had been reopened and were bleeding anew. "It wouldn't have" –

"He counted you a member of his family, like a much-loved nephew," interrupted Aragorn, caught up in imagining what he believed would have been the end of the horrendous separation of himself and Legolas as well as the beginning of living again instead of just existing. "He always used to say that the only reason you weren't his son was because someone else was your father. Once he found out that you were pregnant he would have realized that there was nothing else we could do but be together. He would have wanted you at least to be happy – he might have even helped us" –

"_He did know!"_ burst out Legolas, anguished. He couldn't bear to hear about Lord Elrond's helpful nature or how much he loved him anymore! It still hurt him more than he could say to have had the elf lord reject and essentially betray him in the end, thus destroying their close bond.

"He what?" gasped Aragorn. "He never told me."

It was all Legolas could do not to start screaming with sorrow. "He wouldn't have," the elf said darkly. "I went to him moments after I figured out I was pregnant. He put his hands on my stomach and confirmed that there was life growing in there. Then he asked me if I knew who the sire was."

Aragorn's mouth fell open in outraged shock. "I felt the same way," commiserated Legolas, melancholy. "After I dashed his hopes by telling him that I was sure it was you he implied that I got pregnant on purpose to hold on to you. Next he made me feel like I'd be inconveniencing you if I turned to you, which in turn made me feel like I couldn't go to my father or anyone else. Finally, Lord Elrond offered me a…solution, I suppose you could call it: he left some cotton root bark out for me on his nightstand."

"Which would have caused you to miscarry," breathed Aragorn, utterly floored by this new information. His heart hardened momentarily as he thought back to the guilty look on Elrond's face during an argument when Aragorn had told him that it wasn't his child's fault that Arwen was the other parent and not Legolas. "I didn't know he was so cold that he would rather have had his first grandchild gone than to risk Arwen enduring any emotional pain," he added, talking out loud but really speaking to himself. He saw in his mind the dear little boy that was his firstborn son; the way Caladel had used all of his limbs to hug Legolas that afternoon, the way he'd held Silmariën's hand and bonded instantly with Eldarion, how he'd brightened instantly at the mention of Rivendell, and even how he'd been so cheeky with Aragorn in the same way that Legolas was when he was feeling surly. He'd only known that Caladel existed for a few short hours and still Aragorn couldn't fathom not having him in the world.

"I took the herb from the nightstand, but only to make him think the baby was gone," Legolas concluded his tale. "I threw it away and washed my hands immediately. I was so obsessed with hiding myself and the baby from the world. I know it wasn't the ideal way to handle the matter but do you now see why I chose to do it that way?"

Very slowly, the Man nodded solemnly. "Oh, my dear Legolas," he sighed wearily, actually cracking a smile, sad though it was. "We've both been such fools."

"You just lost me, Aragorn," said Legolas bluntly, not sure if he liked the change in the Man's tone and demeanor. He'd actually been feeling pretty good about how their conversation was going but now Aragorn was acting like…like they had reached a reconciliation rather than a conclusion with a mutual understanding. "We may not have made the choices we would have made in hindsight but I can't see how we've been completely foolish."

"We were manipulated by an elf that had lost control of his schemes," Aragorn explained with a sudden spurt of passion that made Legolas more than a little uneasy. "He all but admitted it when I figured it out; during the time he was in Minas Tirith to help Arwen with her first pregnancy. He set me up from the day he told me my true name – probably even before then. I was only seeking a distraction from my pain after our relationship ended after that summer in Mirkwood when I pursued Arwen, but he encouraged me to think of it as more than that by continually challenging me to prove myself worthy and I fell for it; not because I wanted her love and respect, but his. He thought it would be safe to use that to motivate me to claim the throne of Gondor because he believed that in the end she wouldn't love me enough to give up her immortality to be with me."

"That's – _twisted_," marveled Legolas. "He wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination but this…

Aragorn bit his lip mournfully. "I don't think it was deliberate," he reiterated. "Things just got out of control. Ada definitely didn't expect you to get so tangled up in it and he did everything he could to drive a wedge between us because he'd invested too much in his plans to give them up. It almost worked too, but that's over now."

"It is," agreed Legolas cautiously. "We understand each other now…"

The Man squared his shoulders and smiled at the wary elf. "We should be together," he declared.

Legolas' mouth dropped open and he was too incredulous at first to speak. "Have you forgotten a few things?" he finally demanded, not believing his ears. "Even if I agreed with such a sentiment – which I don't – you are _married_ with three children" –

"Four children," Aragorn reminded him.

"Three officially acknowledged children," Legolas amended his rant. "Where do I fit into that; or Caladel for that matter? He and I are a set."

"Our son fits in so well with my other children already," pointed out Aragorn. "And Arwen will not be an obstacle; I don't know how yet but I will find a way to pacify her and get her out of our way."

"Well, maybe you find it easy to throw aside your prior commitments, but I don't," argued Legolas indignantly. "Why should we be together when I'm in love with Eomer?"

"Are you sure that's how you feel about him?" questioned Aragorn in a subtly seductive tone. He took a step closer to Legolas, who forced himself to stand his ground. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for me?"

Releasing a shuddering breath the prince shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I'll never be able to feel _nothing_ for you – believe me, I tried. But that doesn't change the way I feel about Eomer."

"You're grateful for all that he's done for you and Caladel," debated Aragorn, determined to push through his love's stubbornness once and for all. "That doesn't mean you love him. You can't love two people at once."

"Perhaps _you_ can't," retorted Legolas, feeling a resentful fire kindle within him once again. "But just because that's true for you doesn't mean it's true for everyone. And there is a difference between _love _and _in love_; I know I'm in love with Eomer, but I'm not sure if the same pertains to you anymore. You've been…fading more and more from my thoughts this past year."

Aragorn couldn't let him go without a fight, not this time! "Perhaps I wasn't fading so much as you were trying to repress your memories of us," he suggested in a persuasive tone. "What we have between us can never fade: the friendship, the passion, the connection that survived years of separation and a lot of bad decisions. There is no way you could possibly love Eomer in the same way you love me."

"You're right: I don't love Eomer in the same way I love you," conceded Legolas. A proud and defiant gleam came to his eyes. "But I don't love you in the same way I love him either. He makes me feel good about myself; I feel nothing but cherished and blissful when I think about how much he loves me. He helps me find my strength when I don't think I have any left, supports me when I need it, and challenges me when I require a good kick in the pants, as the hobbits' put it. He's proven time and again that he's always there for me and I can't help but know I'm worthy when I see myself through his eyes. I _hate _myself for having feelings for you because it causes nothing but pain to me and everyone else around me. You forsook me for Arwen, Aragorn; even if you actually left her now how could I ever trust you again?"

"I will do whatever it takes to earn back your trust," promised Aragorn. "There is a way for us; love always finds a way."

"I don't want to be beholden to your vows and declarations of love anymore," Legolas told him, partially angry and partially miserable – he didn't know which emotion was more powerful at the moment. "There is a good Man who loves me and I love him. I can't do _this _anymore."

He turned and charged for the door, but not before Aragorn saw the confusion in his eyes. He'd gotten under Legolas' skin and he had to find a way to stay there or else he was going to lose him for good. "You love me and you know it," he called after the prince. "And I love you too."

Legolas ignored him and threw open the door, only to stop short at what he found on the other side. Arwen stood there, tears falling freely down her face. She's heard; he didn't know how much of it but it had obviously been enough for her to figure out the true nature of the circumstance at last.

The elf had always thought that he'd feel incredibly ashamed when she found out but now that he was face-to-face with her he found that he didn't. So may people had bent over backwards to protect her but she was not a child; she was an adult, a wife, and a mother. It was time for her to confront the gigantic lie that was her marriage and it wasn't for him to say that she couldn't handle it.

"He's your husband," Legolas told her a little more severely than he'd intended. "You wanted him, you got him, and you married him – now _you _deal with him."

He pushed past her, leaving the king and queen of Gondor to yell, cry, make excuses, or maybe even actually sort out the shambles of their marriage. Legolas really didn't care what they chose to do; he just knew that he had to get out of there, away from Aragorn and the painful confusion the Man caused him to feel. Somewhere in Meduseld there had to be a place where it would be quiet and peaceful enough for him to find clarity about this feelings for Aragorn and his love for Eomer; and Legolas was going to find it.

To be continued…


	35. A night of revelations

_Warning: (Very, very) mildly explicit birth scene. I don't think it's anything that needs a warning per say but it's better to be save than sorry._

Arwen continued to stand in the doorway long after Legolas had brushed around her and charged out of sight. Her mind was much too full of shock and anguish to do something so complicated as make her feet work, either to walk forward or confront her husband or go backwards and run away from it all. She couldn't even register the fact that she was still in a semi-public place where anyone, like one of the guards patrolling the corridors or one of her brothers whom she'd just bidden goodnight to, could happen upon this sorry scene at any moment and question her about her tears. The only thing her mind seemed capable of doing as she stared at Aragorn was futilely deny everything she'd just learned. _No_, this couldn't really be happening; _no_, she'd just overheard the conversation between the Man she was in love with and the elf she loved as a brother horribly, horribly wrong. And yet…yet now that she was forced to think about it and look back it all made too much sense to not be true.

But if it was true then that would mean…oh dear Elbereth! It was getting more and more difficult to breathe as she clutched at her chest. Aragorn and Legolas has a relationship, both before she'd met the Man and during the War when she was struggling to hold onto what she thought was their dream to be together? _Aragorn_ was Caladel's sire and that's why Legolas fled without a word all those years ago? And the way Aragorn had been speaking just now: it sounded like he was willing to do almost anything to coax Legolas back into his life and bed, even forsake her so utterly. _Especially _forsake her so utterly – he'd sounded so blasé about where she fit in his life. Did he not even _like _her anymore?

This was too much. By all that was good in Middle-earth, why hadn't she walked away when she'd heard Legolas' raised voice coming out of her and Aragorn's bedchamber? She always thought that being untrue to herself and living a lie would be the worst feeling in the world but now she couldn't imagine it being any more horrible than what she was experiencing right then and there. It felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach and ripped her heart from her chest at the same time. Ignorance was definitely an undesirable state but she still longed to have just a few more minutes of it – just a chance to savor a last bit of happiness before she had to confront the farce that apparently was her life. Neither the Valar nor Eru, however, seemed inclined to give it to her.

While his wife wrestled internally with her shock and devastation Aragorn could do little more than stare at her with his mouth hanging open slightly, as if something was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite give it voice yet. With very few exceptions Aragorn had never been so dumbfounded in his life. Of course he'd dreamed of the day that he could tell Arwen how much he loved Legolas for years and he worked through his mind exactly what he was going to say, but this particular situation had never once been featured in his imagination. In all of his fantasies she didn't know anything until he told her and then responded either indifferently, supportively, or else furiously spewing violent threats that helped her fulfill the roll of 'villainess' in his mental drama. To see her weeping, looking at him as if he'd spat on her while struggling and failing to maintain some sort of composure made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time: he felt _sorry _for her.

"Arwen," he uttered at last, groping desperately in his mind for what he should say next. Nothing came to him, so he simply let his hand shake slowly and slightly as if he were trying to move it underwater.

"Is it true?" she sobbed even though she already knew the answer to that. She hugged herself tightly, desperate for any comfort she could find. She had to hear it from him telling her directly.

"How – how long were you listening?" stammered Aragorn. Maybe there was a chance she didn't hear everything. He could explain those parts in a much gentler manner and then perhaps she would stop looking at him like that.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked him right back with a twinge of hostility and hysteria in her tone. "Do you want to figure out just how much you need to confess to? Placate your 'distraction' so that you get back to thinking about how she ruined your life and plotting to rid yourself of her in peace?"

Aragorn clenched his jaw. He was _trying _to do something nice for her after what he'd just put her through and her responding accusations were very hard to take. "That was a private conversation," he insisted, hardness creeping back into his voice. "You were not invited to listen to it and you had no right to eavesdrop."

"I was concerned!" Arwen cried, pouring out her anguish in those three words. "Yes, I admit I was curious too, but mostly I was concerned when I heard Aragorn yelling. Any fool could see the tension between the two of you today and I was worried that you were fighting and saying things you'd regret later. It's my right as your wife to see to it that you're all right."

"Your right?" repeated Aragorn incredulously, frustrated beyond belief at her assertions that their marriage gave her the right to essentially spy on him. That in itself didn't clear up all of the guilt he was feeling just seconds before but it did remind him of why it had taken him so long to feel sorry for her in the first place. His confrontation with Legolas had been the most intimate thing he'd engaged in for years; finding out she'd been listening left him feeling violated. "What about my right to have a little privacy? What about Legolas' right? You cannot claim spousal privilege when it comes to him – or are your _rights _more important than his? Could you not have given us one moment's peace?"

Arwen couldn't believe the words coming from her husband's mouth or the bitter irritation that seemed to drip off of them. "You condemn _me_?" she wondered in amazement. "After all I just heard?"

The Man winced a little as the volume of her voice rose. "If you can't give me some peace at least give it to everyone else!" he burst out, waving angrily and wildly at a point just beyond her. "You'll have all of Meduseld awake in a minute! Close the door and come in!"

She shut the door with a rather vicious slam that echoed off the walls, stepping only far enough away from it to not get in the way of its closing. "Don't talk to me like that," she warned him as all of her emotions welled up inside until it felt like she would explode if she didn't release them right away. To be fair she probably would have been confrontational even if he'd immediately and sincerely groveled for forgiveness, but witnessing his hostility and disdain for her firsthand brought them all to the surface faster. "I know I don't have as much life experience as you; I know I haven't met as many different people or traveled to as many different lands. But I will _not_ tolerate you speaking to me in that condescending tone right now!"

"There was no condescension in my tone," shot back Aragorn snippily. "I was simply reminding you that you're not the only one in this building. You don't need a lot of life experience to know how to be considerate of other people!"

"Well, you're proof that all the life experience in the lands can't teach you consideration," retorted Arwen, crying openly with both sorrow and anger. "I just found out you had an affair with one of my oldest and dearest friends, impregnated him, abandoned him for me – a person you apparently cannot stand – and turned both your life and mine into a gigantic lie. And if that wasn't enough, you journeyed all the way from Minas Tirith to Rohan for the sole purpose of destroying Legolas' chance at happiness with his intended by swearing that you'll make sure I don't stand between you two anymore! How dare you lecture me on consideration for other people's feelings?"

"Fine – you're right and I'm wrong," snapped Aragorn with too much impatience for his words to be mistaken as sincere. "You're sweet and wonderful and perfect and only an idiot wouldn't want you; and I am a villain, a cur, and a heel who is wicked for not seeing how utterly wonderful you are. Are your satisfied enough now to leave me be?"

"Not yet," she declared. "There's something I've always vowed to do if I ever found out who was responsible for driving Legolas away." With no further ado she stalked over to Aragorn and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

The Man's head recoiled from her surprisingly forceful blow. "I loved you," raged Arwen. She then paused, grasped her forehead, and shook her head in frustration. "Why am I trying to fool? Even after all of this I love you still."

"I do not ask for it," muttered Aragorn.

"There was a time you did," Arwen reminded him fiercely, her face crumpling as she thought of the two of them in happier moments. All of those couldn't have been a lie – while he was shockingly insensitive right then she knew Aragorn could never be deliberately cruel enough to set out to deceive her all along. "Why, Aragorn? Why did you let me give up my immortality and marry you if I truly meant nothing to you?"

"I didn't _let _you give up your immortality," Aragorn told her, still feeling the sharp sting of her slap on his cheek. If he was to be condemned by her that night he would made _damn _sure that it was only for truthful reasons. "I all but escorted you to the Grey Havens myself so don't blame me for your decision to stay! Trust me when I say I lament it as much as you now do."

Arwen glared furiously at him. "You never said or did anything that would make me see you didn't love me," she all but snarled.

"As you should recall," Aragorn practically hissed, "I told you not to give me the Evenstar pendant. And then, after you insisted on me taking it no matter how much I objected, I tried to give it back and you refused it. Were those not explicit enough?"

"All of those things only served to make me love you more!" yelled Arwen. Then, as if that admission had robbed her of her energy she let out a heartbroken sob and sank down onto the bed. "I saw what I thought was your selflessness on my behalf, your willingness to sacrifice your own happiness so that I may enjoy eternal peace, and how _difficult _it was for you to leave me and I loved you more than ever because of it." She laughed bitterly but weakly and it sounded like she was choking. "I suppose it's rather ironic, don't you think? You were inspiring me to hold on tightly by the way you tried to tell me goodbye."

Aragorn sighed and cradled his forehead in his hand. Her anger had been fueling his own and now that she wasn't showing it anymore his energy level was descending rapidly. "Arwen…"

"You were certainly selfless and sacrificial when you left Legolas for my sake," she went on, staring at her hands as she fiddled half-heartedly with her fingers. "It was your bad luck that what worked on me didn't work on him. Or maybe it would have – he might have suffered the same fate as me, loving you for your self-sacrificing nature and staying in a life that had no room in it for him, if it weren't for Caladel. Finding out he was pregnant must have made him fully appreciate what an awful situation he was in and gave him new strength in focusing on what was best for his baby. In a way I envy him."

"I'm sure he would tell you that what he went through wasn't anything to be envious of," interjected Aragorn a tad protectively, not liking how she was making light of his love being pregnant and alone for so long.

"I have no doubt it was difficult for him, but at least now he has the chance to be free of you," replied Arwen miserably. "And now I have _this _moment, though I can never be as free as he can." She looked up at Aragorn suddenly with imploring eyes. "Why did you marry me? Why did you not tell me you no longer love me?"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," replied Aragorn awkwardly, fully aware of the irony of that statement. "We'd been together for decades. I just wanted to end our relationship as gently as possible; I admit that was as much for my own peace of mind as it was for your sake, but I swear my intentions were good. Things just didn't work out as well as I'd hoped they would."

Arwen shook her head as a memory of an encounter between them flooded her mind. "_'It was a dream, Arwen – nothing more'_," she recited those hurtful words from it aloud. Aragorn cocked his head questioningly but didn't say anything. "Ai Elbereth, you really meant that. I'd thought you were just being poetic about how enchanting your feelings for me were and how wonderful our relationship had been, but you really meant exactly what you said."

"I was trying not to be misleading," asserted Aragorn. "I didn't tell you I loved you when I tried to give the Evenstar back. And you never asked me why I was doing that in the first place – you just assumed."

She closed her eyes briefly and sniffled. "All right," she said heavily. "I concede that I misinterpreted your polite rejection and did not ask for clarification because I loved you and wanted to stay with you. However, marrying someone is not letting them down gently. You cannot blame me for not seeing _that _as a sign that you didn't love me! Please, Aragorn; if nothing else you owe me an explanation about why you bound yourself to me when you didn't love me."

"You had just given up _everything _for one reason alone: because of _me_," stressed Aragorn. "You almost died because you believed in our relationship so much. How was I supposed to look you in the eye and tell you I didn't want to marry you after you bound yourself to Middle-earth and its fate for me? You would have been destroyed" –

"Destroyed?" repeated Arwen disbelievingly. He could tell by her expression when she looked straight at him that she didn't know if she would laugh or cry at this notion. It made him more than a little uncomfortable. "I'm devastated now, to be sure, but even after finding out that the blissful marriage and family life I have is in fact a lie I am still not destroyed. Learning that you didn't love me before the marriage and children couldn't have been any worse than this."

The Man opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. "You just seemed" – he began.

"What makes you think the people who fall in love with you can't live without you?" continued Arwen, not acknowledging that he said anything. "There's yet another thing Legolas and I have in common – you believe that both of us should be head over heels in love with you for eternity no matter how callously you treat us." She threw her hands up in the air and gave him a pointed Look. "I would have been distraught, angry, and maybe even hated you but no one wants to end up married to someone who doesn't love them. I would have dealt with all of those feelings and moved on with my life if you'd just told me the truth!"

Aragorn was already shaking his head. "What proof do you have of that?" he demanded, his indignation and denial mixing well with the overwhelming realization that he might have misjudged her. "It wouldn't have been like when your mother left for the Undying Lands, Arwen – within a short time there would have been no Ada, no Galadriel, and almost no more elves in Rivendell. You've never dealt with an emotionally difficult situation in your life without having a slew of people surrounding you to cushion the blow."

"Because no one has ever given me the chance to try!" exploded Arwen, angrier at herself than at him for this particular point. She hadn't realized until their confrontation just how much most people treated her like a child, always sending her off or brushing her aside when something potentially painful happened, and she was sick of it. "You lied to me and broke up with me so delicately that I didn't realize our relationship was over, and now I find out that Ada bullied and manipulated three people he supposedly loved – yes, three; I was a pawn in his schemes too – and for what? So I could get everything I wanted while Legolas lost everything I now see rightly belonged to him? Neither of you allowed me to make my own decisions about this! Dear Elbereth, did anyone else know about this mess before me?"

"Gimli must have pried it out of Legolas whenever he found out he was here, but I'm sure you were the last thing on his mind when he discovered the truth," responded Aragorn truthfully, for there was no reason to soften the facts for her now. "And Elladan somehow figured it out by last Solstice."

"No wonder my brother's been so attentive lately," muttered Arwen. "How dare you all of you decide what I can and can't handle without consulting me? This is my _life_."

Aragorn hung his head, unable to answer. She was absolutely right, of course – she'd been coddled all her life by her father, her brothers, her husband, and even by her dear friend Legolas and never allowed to solve her problems on her own or deal with difficult situations because there had always been someone around, insisting on making things better for her. "I don't know what to say," he confessed, sitting down next to her and starting off at nothing with a dazed expression in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you or anyone else. I have always tried to do the right thing."

"I know," Arwen told him wearily. "But you fell into the same trap that Ada was stuck in: you believed that you and you alone knew what the right thing was and didn't bother to consult the other people who also had a stake in the situation. Maybe we could have come to a more amicable and livable solution if the three of us who were actually involved in all of this had the chance to sit down and _talk_ before things got out of hand."

"I'm sorry," Aragorn half said and half breathed, apologizing to all three of them.

She looked at him, her expression imploring but fearful of the answer. "Did you ever love me at all?" she asked. "Be – be honest, please."

"I once thought I did," replied Aragorn in a soft and almost toneless voice. "At least I told myself I was in love with you. It's not implausible, Arwen – you are very beautiful and kind, but my heart was never yours. It was always nice to see you when my journeys took me back to Rivendell but the idea of binding myself to you never appealed to me. When I saw Legolas the night before the Council I finally understood my hesitation – I knew I loved only him."

"And what about the…the _aspects_ of our marriage?" pressed Arwen, feeling more than a little queasy.

"I love our children with all I am," professed Aragorn sincerely. "Aside from everything else I'm glad the two of us were together to create them, for I can't imagine my life without them. But I'm…I'm not attracted to you in a physical way, Arwen. You were always someone who was meant to be admired from afar: lovely in appearance but never inflaming my desires. A dream, Arwen – and Legolas was the reality. But now Legolas is the dream and you are the reality; and it was never supposed to be that way, at least not for me."

Arwen swallowed hard and covered her mouth to push back any more sobs that were trying to escape her mouth. "Thank you for your honesty," she said faintly. It hurt more than anything to hear it but she'd asked for the truth and she couldn't fault him for finally giving it to her.

The pair sat together in awkward silence for several moments, both too deep in thought to speak for several moments. Then Arwen spoke again with resignation rather than accusation in her tone. "What really hurts is not that decades of lies have been exposed, leaving our lives in tatters," she commented. "It's that right now after we gone through all that together your mind is still only on Legolas."

"I can't help it," admitted Aragorn, closing his eyes for a second. "I never thought I would lose him completely but now – now I don't know what he wants. I don't know what to do."

"Do you love him, Aragorn?" asked Arwen. It was one of the most painful questions she'd ever asked anyone, but one of their miserable trio had the chance to have some happiness and she wanted him to have it.

"With all that I am," Aragorn told her quietly.

"Enough to not hinder him while he chooses his own path?" she questioned him. The Man cocked an eyebrow at her. "You've already done what you thought was right for me, and what – on some level – was right for you, or your reputation. Now if you truly – truly love him you'll do what Legolas decides what's right for Legolas no matter what that decision may be."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

As it turned out, the quiet place that Legolas was seeking wasn't all that difficult to find. There had been very few things during the last few tumultuous years that he felt he could truly grasp onto and Caladel was the most important one of them all. No matter how alone he'd felt, how confused he was about the true nature of his feelings for Aragorn, and how upset he felt about how they might affect his future with Eomer the elf prince was always certain of one thing: his love for his son. Only in Caladel's presence could Legolas begin to imagine finding the inner peace he needed to sort through the tangled knots of emotions within him.

The boy was sound asleep when Legolas silently opened the door, slipped into his bedchamber, and sank down in a chair at the side of the bed. Moonlight illuminated the boy's young face; the elf smiled as he recalled how much Caladel found comfort in the moon, so much so that his fathers had spent a good deal of time arranging the bed just so that it would shine down on him during the night. As he bonded more and more with the race of Men it was nice for his ada to see that his elvish side wasn't completely forgotten.

In the silvery light Legolas could see how meticulously the covers were pulled around him as well as the picture book of the history of Rohan on the elfling's night table. _'Eomer must have put him to bed,' _thought Legolas. The book was a tell-tale sign – Eomer had been spending the last month going through each picture carefully and singing each song that went along with whatever was being depicted. He was sorry he missed it, for it filled him with a great amount of joy to watch Eomer interact with their son while listening to his wonderfully deep singing voice. _'I wonder how he explained to Caladel why I wasn't here.'_

Filled with regret for letting down his son in any way, Legolas leaned forward as he watched his son sleep. _'What am I going to do, ion nin?' _he asked Caladel silently. _'I love your papa so much but your blood sire still stirs something inside of me. But what is that something exactly? Oh child, I feel so lost and hurt. The only two people I've ever been in love with have caused me pain in the same night – not for the same reasons and not maliciously, but they've hurt me nonetheless. Why can't it be as easy with them as it is with you? You have never…'_

He couldn't finish that thought, though, because he realized it wasn't true. Caladel _had _once caused him a great deal of pain – not spitefully or even intentionally, but it was still real. The boy could hardly be blamed for it (and Legolas had to admit that he himself had been the true cause for the majority of it), as he had been in the process of being born at that point. It had been a trial by fire for the elf and no matter what else happened in his life that day would always be burned in his memory.

_O – Flashback – O_

"_I want my ada!" screamed Legolas piteously as another contraction attacked his body._

_Even through the tears that were blurring his vision Legolas could see Treebeard regarding him with those well-deep eyes of his. "Perhaps I can find a way to fetch him for you," the old Ent offered graciously, knowing that his guest's pain must be terrible indeed if he was actually breaking down and asking for someone. For over seven months he'd heard nothing from him but 'I don't need anyone – I can do this on my own'. "I do not think he will be able to come to Fangorn in time, but" –_

"_No!" burst out Legolas, his tightly clenched jaw loosening a bit as the latest wave of pain passed, giving him a bit more clarity. "I'm just talking, Treebeard – don't send for my father, please!"_

_The sad thing was that it wasn't as if Legolas didn't _want _Thranduil to be there at his side. In fact the young elf was bitterly regretting the years he'd been alternatively exasperated and annoyed with his father's meddling in his life. He'd always stubbornly thought Thranduil was intruding on his independence, treating him like a child when it was so very clear he was an adult. Oh why had he been so defiant when his father had enforced rules on his relationship with Aragorn during that summer in Mirkwood? Why had he thought that he was so strong and wise he no longer needed Thranduil's guidance?_

_More than anything Legolas longed to have his ada there with him now. Thranduil would put his arms around him and, while he couldn't be able to totally take the pain away, he would be able to help his son through it and not feel so alone. But that was impossible and Legolas had no one to blame but himself for it._

_Legolas had no choice but to be the father now and that scared him to his core. For the first time since that fateful night after Lord Elrond had left his bedchamber in Minas Tirith the elf doubted if he could do this – and this was _not _the time to start thinking that way. _'How am I going to raise this child?' _he asked himself in sheer terror. _'I feel like I'm barely more than a child myself and now I have to be as good a father as Ada is? Ai, maybe…maybe I'd feel more confident if I could just get comfortable.'

_He shifted painfully, propping himself up more against the tree he was leaning against and winced as the rough bark dug further into his back. Elbereth, that tree was causing him as much pain as the contractions, if not more. Legolas wished desperately that he could lie down on the soft, inviting turf but he couldn't – he'd only practiced delivering the baby in his current semi-sitting position. Why hadn't he had the common sense to become an expert at _every _birthing position just so he would have been prepared for anything? But no, he'd decided that this and only this position would do because it seemed to be the easiest one to maneuver in and now he was stuck with the consequences. He could be feeling the grass against his back instead of rough wood if he hadn't been so stubborn. At the very least he could have put more thought into what tree he was going to lean against instead of impulsively choosing one and regretting it later when moving had become pretty much impossible._

'I always seem to choose the way of pain,' _thought Legolas miserably. _'That's how I ended up here all alone.'

_No! He couldn't let himself think that way. He _wasn't _alone – he had Treebeard there to support him and, more importantly, he had his baby – his Caladel. This child needed him and he would never forgive himself if he failed him. Fear froze his heart in his chest as another, greater pain ripped through his abdomen. "Ai!" cried the elf suddenly, groping stiffly for the blanket he'd set by his side as more pain wracked his body. "Ai Elbereth, this is it! I have to push!"_

"_Push then," advised Treebeard with dry humor as he watched Legolas move his hands and the blanket into position._

"_I can't," declared Legolas with a sob. "I can't let this baby down and there's no way I won't do just that! What was I thinking, Treebeard? I am not a strong enough person to be a father."_

"_Then you must become a stronger person," the Ent told him wisely. "Look deep within yourself, young Master Elf; I have seen you change so much since you came to live in my forest. It's quite exhausting for an Ent to watch that much change in such a short time but it's good for elves, especially elves who are about to become fathers. You will be a strong enough person to be a father, Legolas – you will grow as he does and you both will change together. Are you brave enough to become the person your son needs?"_

"_Yes," groaned Legolas as the unrelenting pain coursed through him._

"_Good," declared Treebeard. "And now I will be your eyes."_

_Legolas wanted to do or say something affirmative but found it took all of his strength and concentration to keep himself in the adjusted position once he got himself into it. The changes his body had gone through to accommodate the birthing was more apparent now and even though he knew intellectually that it was only temporary it still scared him. Yet he could not allow that fear to take hold and rule him. Scrunching up his face with the effort he pushed as hard as he could._

_His arms were shaking as he felt the head in his hands. "Very good," encouraged Treebeard. Legolas slumped, exhausted and desperate for a reprieve. "But don't stop now! You must keep pushing – that child needs air and you are the only one who can make sure he gets it."_

_Legolas dug deep inside himself for the strength to continue. With a loud yell he pushed again, agony shooting through him. His efforts were rewarded, though, as he saw and felt more of the baby's body in his hands. "You're doing so well," coached the Ent. "Right before my eyes you're becoming the person you need to be for both yourself and him. All you need to do now is push one more time."_

"_I don't think I can," gasped Legolas. He was so tired and it was so hard to deal with the pain…_

"_One more push," repeated Treebeard, more firmly this time. "Your child needs you and you need him. What is some temporary pain compared to that?"_

_The answer to that was simple: nothing. This baby was the most important thing to him and he knew he had to endure any level of pain if he could have his Caladel in the end. Legolas let out one last bellow that echoed through the forest as he pushed with all his might. His efforts were rewarded when the baby was completely born and in his trembling but solid hands._

_A shrill, sweet cry filled the air, letting Legolas know that the baby was breathing properly. It was over – he was a father. The elf wanted to slump to the forest floor and sleep for days but he couldn't and didn't. Instead he very carefully lifted the baby – a boy, he could see plainly that his baby was a boy – to cradle him as he cleaned him off and cut and tied off the cord. Finally, when all of that was done, Legolas carefully laid back with the baby still cuddled in his arms. _

"_Now there's something you don't see every day," remarked Treebeard reverently._

"_Try 'lifetime' and then you'll have it," corrected Legolas as he stared at his baby – his Caladel – in awe. He'd thought he knew what it was like to love before, but _nothing_ compared to what he was feeling now. The precious little life in his arms had the power to make him stronger than he'd ever dreamed he could be and destroy him in a second – and he wouldn't have had it any other way. He may not have taken the easy way there, but for all his stubbornness and lack of experience Legolas had finally arrived at a place emotionally where he trusted both his feelings and those of the one he loved. At that moment Legolas knew he had changed for the better and could never go back to being the person he had once been._

"_Welcome to the world, Caladel," whispered Legolas tearfully, touching the baby's cheeks and kissing the top of his hairless head. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you."_

_O – End Flashback – O_

"Ada?"

Legolas pulled himself out of his memories and looked over at his son. Caladel had woken up sometime during his musings and rolled over so that he could look at him. "What are you doing awake at this hour, ion nin?" the elf asked, going over to the bed and readjusting the covers around the boy.

"That's what I was going to ask you," replied Caladel as he tiredly rubbed one eye with a small fist. "You need sleep more than me – _you're _the one getting married tomorrow and all. Why aren't you in bed?"

"I've got too much on my mind for sleeping," confided Legolas. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to get your ready for bed and bid you goodnight."

"That's all right," said Caladel, although he _had _missed his father greatly. "Papa took care of me. Besides, I understand – there are lots of guests here you haven't seen in awhile. I know you want to visit with them."

Legolas smiled wistfully down at his son. "Do you know who I love more than anyone in all the lands?" he asked rhetorically, answering his own question before Caladel could do more than look at him curiously. "You. No matter who the guests may be, how many friends and family member there are around, or where life takes us I will always love you more than anyone or anything else, Caladel."

The little boy smiled as his father kissed his brow. "I love you too," he said happily. "You're in a funny mood, Ada. Did something happen?"

"Yes," smiled Legolas warmly, knowingly. "I just figured out something very complicated thanks to you."

"What did I do?" wondered Caladel inquisitively. He could only remember sleeping and then waking up to see his ada in there with him. As far as he could tell it was very hard to help someone in any way when you're sleeping.

"By reminding me of what's really important," answered Legolas, carefully vague. "By reminding me of who I am. Now get some rest, ion nin. I'll be back and in my bedchamber soon; I just need to speak to someone before I do that."

Legolas stayed in there until the boy's eyes were once again vacant with sleep. He felt strangely light and free of care – as one usually was after an enlightening revelation. It was a pattern with him, he realized, with how he always chose the difficult path just because he was too stubborn or too confident that what he was doing would make things easier. How much less pain there would have been if he'd only confronted his emotions sooner! He could have figured all this out awhile ago but it didn't matter now. The pain was worth it, as it had been before with Caladel, because on the other side of it was a Man whose love made enduring it nothing in comparison.

He'd always known his heart but now he finally understood it.

To be concluded…


	36. A grander plan that is coming true

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from the Rascal Flatt's song Bless the Broken Road. Since it fits in so well with the chapter I'm putting here all of the lyrics: _

_I set out on a narrow way many years ago  
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road  
But I got lost a time or two  
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through  
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you _

**Chorus:**

_Every long lost dream led me to where you are  
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars  
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms  
This much I know is true  
That God blessed the broken road  
That led me straight to you _

I think about the years I spent just passing through  
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you  
But you just smile and take my hand  
You've been there, you understand  
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

**Chorus**

Yeah

Now I'm just rolling home  
Into my lover's arms  
This much I know is true  
That God blessed the broken road  
That led me straight to you

That God blessed the broken road  
That led me straight to you

It was a gorgeous day in Rohan. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, only a gentle breeze (truly a rarity in the city of Edoras), and no humidity in the air. To the elf standing on the main outside staircase to Meduseld everything about that morning couldn't be more perfect. It truly matched the mood that Legolas Thranduilion was in: cheerful, warm, and free of turmoil.

There was no external hint of hesitation – indeed because there was internal doubt to speak of – in Legolas' demeanor as he took the wooden marriage band off of his right hand. This was it; the decision he needed to make, he wanted to make, and – as he realized when he looked back on his life since the War of the Ring – truly the decision he was destined to make. And now that his mind was finally clear of the confusion of not fully understanding why he felt the way he felt he was _happy _about the choice he had made.

He turned the ring once with the tips of his fingers, feeling the smooth wood; then the broad grin on the elf's face somehow managed to get even wider as he handed it over to Eomer. "You put this ring on my right hand as a symbol of our engagement," he said, and extended his left hand. "And now I give it back for you to put on my left hand as a symbol of our marriage so that all may know I enter into this union of my own free will."

The corners of Eomer's mouth turned upward even more, blissful beyond measure to hear Legolas reciting this part of the marriage vows. "This ring is a symbol of our love, fidelity, and trust," the Man stated earnestly as he slipped it on his soon-to-be new husband's left ring finger. "There is none like it in all the lands. That is fitting, as there is no one likethe person it was made for anywhere else but standing right before me. If I were the most gifted poet who ever lived I still could not find the words to adequately describe how much I love you, but I plan to spend the rest of my days making sure you know just that nonetheless. You gave me love, a son, and a family when I had given up on having any one of those things. I love you, Legolas."

Eomer's hand lingered on Legolas' for a few long moments, gently caressing the skin and then tenderly lowered. The prince waited in delighted anticipation as his fiancé removed his mithril ring and handed it over to him. "You put this ring on my right hand as a symbol of our engagement," recited Eomer with a smile. "And now I give it back to you to put on my left hand as a symbol of our marriage so that all may know I enter into this union of my own free will."

It meant so much to Legolas that Eomer had been so readily and enthusiastically agreed to integrate his people's traditions, such as each person taking off their own engagement bands as a display of free will and saying the marriage vows when they exchanged rings, with the Rohirric ceremony. While he understood and accepted that he would have to go along with the traditions of the Rohirrim now that he was officially becoming the realm's prince consort Legolas was determined to hold onto as much of his elvish heritage and ways as he could so that he and Caladel would not wholly lose that part of themselves. That, and he knew it meant a lot to his father – he could feel the approval, love, and pride radiating from the elven king, standing front in center with his grandson as they watched the wedding ceremony.

Eomer reverently placed the ring on his intended's palm and presented his left hand. "This ring is a symbol of our love, fidelity, and trust," declared Legolas powerfully as he put the mithril band on the proper finger. "It was not lightly made for any person nor is it loosely given on a whim, but forged to fit your finger and your finger alone because you are the only person I choose to commit myself to. I was in dark shadows and you became the light that saw me out; I was in a lonely place and you gave me companionship; my heart was imprisoned and you released it; and when I loved you, you loved me back. Now I have you, you have me, and Caladel has the both of us; and all the lands know that we are husbands, a family, and united until the end of days. I love you, Eomer."

Caladel was waiting the ceremony intently, and not just because he was thrilled that his parents were finally getting married. His part in this was coming up soon – he knew this from all the practicing his ada and papa had gone through with him – and when Legolas released Eomer's hand he saw his signal. As quickly as he possibly could without breaking the proper decorum he knew he had to maintain until the wedding was over the boy hurried over to his ada's side and tilted his head to the correct side. Legolas leaned over to sift through Caladel's hair for the lock tied with a band, took a ceremonial knife from Elfhelm (who, as one of the king's highest ranked officials, was presiding), and cut it off. Then he did the same to his own hair and handed the knife to Eomer, who followed suit.

Legolas and Caladel held onto their locks until Eomer had his as well and then together all three handed them to Elfhelm while a servant discreetly spirited away the knife. The commander weaved them into one single braid and held it up for the entire crowd to see. "As all of you well know, this is not just the official bonding of a couple," the Man announced triumphantly, "but also the official forging of a family. The people of Edoras and Rohan have been privileged enough for over year to watch this happen and now may all of Middle-earth know that King Eomer Eadig of Rohan and Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Eryn Lasgalan are bound to each other through the oaths they've swore to each other – both before you and in private – the love in their hearts, and most importantly through their son, Lord Caladel of Rohan and Eryn Lasgalan!"

The crowd clapped indulgently as Caladel gave them an eager wave and scurried back to his grandfather's side. "And now it is with the deepest of all happiness that I declare this marriage official," said Elfhelm. "My king, my prince, you may now kiss your new husbands."

They didn't need any more prompting. Legolas and Eomer's lips joined while the whole crowd (even those who didn't feel it in their hearts) applauded. The wedding had been executed just as it had been planned since the couple became engaged. Of course, things had been looking bleak the night before when Eomer had sent Legolas to Aragorn and Legolas had wrestled with his feelings.

The Man had spent most of the evening (save the time he was putting Caladel to bed) in his bedchamber and was awake long into the night, wondering if he'd lost Legolas for good. He couldn't sleep even though he suspected it wouldn't be until morning that his fiancé would come to tell them if they would be having a wedding at all. Legolas was the type to deliberate everything in his mind carefully and, once he'd forced himself to acknowledge an internal conflict, not make any decisions until he felt he had it all sorted out.

Imagine Eomer's surprise, then, when frantic knocking came to his door in the wee hours of the night and he found Legolas on the other side when it opened it.

_O – Flashback – O_

_Eomer quietly closed the door as Legolas strode determinedly into his bedchamber and subtly studies his fiancé's – for he would think of Legolas as that until he heard otherwise from the elf himself – body language. There was a distinct tranquility to it and, quite frankly, that made him a little alarmed. He hadn't expected Legolas to sort out his feelings for Aragorn so quickly. Eomer wasn't sure if this boded well for the future of their relationship._

"_What" – began Eomer, trying to sound casual even when his voice caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What brings you here at this hour, Legolas?"_

_Legolas turned and looked at him; the peace, realization, and love in those brilliant blue orbs was almost overwhelming to behold. "Caladel and any other children I will have in the future will one day feel the pangs of first love," he said resolutely._

"_Come again?" asked a perplexed Eomer, not certain what this had to do with their current dilemma. He hoped it was a good sign that Legolas felt it was proper to be discussing any future children he had with him._

"_They will have first loves," reiterated Legolas serenely. "They will know the intensity, the pain, and the drama of feeling for the first time that all they need is love and everything else will work itself out. When those relationships come to low points – as all relationships must – I will be there for them. As they share their pain with me I will tell them the story of my first love and all I went through with him. Then I will promise that things will get better in time and retire to my bedchamber, where my husband and their sire will be waiting for me."_

"_That is a lovely image," said Eomer in a soft voice, half afraid and half hopeful about where his intended was taking his story._

"_And it will come to pass one day, just as it should be," proclaimed Legolas. "Do you know who my husband will be? You, melethnin; Aragorn will be the first love in the stories I will tell to our children but _you _will be my husband and their sire. It's you, Eomer – I think it was always meant to be you."_

"_Legolas," the Man breathed, taking a few stumbling steps toward him._

_The elf shook his head and waved his hand a little. He too could scarcely wait for their emotional reunion but there was still more that needed to be said before that could happen. "Please, melethnin, let me finish," he requested, pleading but excited and eager to share the night's revelations. "There was a time in my life when I thought that pain and drama were supposed to be major parts of love, and that love was all I needed. But I am not that person anymore – I've grown a lot since the end of the War and I can't, and don't want to, go back to being that naïve young elf again. I know now that no matter how much you love someone if you don't have trust accompanying that feeling you cannot have a relationship that lasts."_

"_So you want a love that's…easier?" questioned Eomer awkwardly. He didn't like the idea that Legolas was choosing to settle with him rather than face the pain of being with Aragorn again._

"_Absolutely not!" protested Legolas, offended. "This has not been an easy decision by any stretch of the imagination. I'll always love Aragorn – that's true enough – but most of that feeling is due to nostalgia. I'm not _in love_ with him. I'm in love with the person who showed me that love can be intense without tying me up in hurtful knots, and that pain and drama aren't essential parts of love but elements that get wearisome when you finally experience life without them. Just because Aragorn was my first love doesn't make him my only love."_

_A huge smile crept across the king of Rohan's face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked with understated glee._

"_Aragorn is all about grand declarations and intense encounters," said Legolas firmly. "The way he loves me is with secret pining and promises he refuses to see he can't keep. You do little and big things that show me and everyone else I care about how much you love me. You make promises you know you can keep, and I trust you with all that is important to me. I know what kind of love I want, Eomer, what kind of spouse I want, and I'm so very, very fortunate to have found all of that in the Man I'm in love with. I'm in love with you, Eomer. There is no one else for me."_

"_Are you sure?" whispered Eomer._

_Legolas nodded, a gigantic smile splitting his face. "Will you marry me tomorrow?" he asked._

"_Well, I think I can arrange that," Eomer joked through his tears of joy. "I mean, we _do _have a city full of people expecting to see us get married and all…"_

_The elf looked at him incredulously, marched over to him, and grabbed the back of his head with both hands. "You joke _now_?" he teased, equally tearful as he pulled them together until they were almost nose-to-nose. "You're lucky your sense of humor happens to be one of the reasons I love you so much."_

_Taking advantage of their close proximity Eomer wrapped his arms around his fiancé. "I'm fortunate in so many ways," he declared, the good-humor in his face fading a bit as the memory of his previous fears lingered in his mind. "I'm so glad you're here," he confessed. "It almost killed me to let you go like that. I don't think I could do that again."_

"_Well, it's good that you found it in yourself to do it tonight," smiled Legolas wryly, "but trust me when I say it won't be happening in the future."_

_The elf managed to get out one more sentence before their mouths came together in the first of many passionate kisses they would share before they bid each other goodnight: "You won't be able to get rid of me that easily again."_

_O – End Flashback – O_

Aragorn wore a wistful expression that he managed to force into a smile as he watched his one true love marry someone else. It was a comfort and a curse to know that Legolas truly loved Eomer. The comforting part was now after years of wondering, hoping, and fearing (but not letting himself believe) the worst he would know where Legolas was and that he was truly happy. The curse, of course, came in knowing that the elf's happiness didn't include him.

Legolas had made his decision and it wasn't him. In fact he hadn't even _seen_ Legolas since he'd stormed out of the bedchamber last night. Aragorn had waited until the start of the wedding for some word and until he saw the elf standing up there with Eomer he hadn't quite believed he'd lost him for good. The silence, he supposed, was Legolas' way of telling him that their lives were now separate, each with a different significant other. At least Aragorn knew Eomer would be good to his love and secret son (probably better than Aragorn had been) – and if he wasn't the other Man would make him answer for it.

"How are you doing?" asked Arwen in a quiet voice from her place at his side.

"I've had better days," admitted Aragorn ruefully. "But what I'm feeling now is nothing Legolas hasn't felt before. I imagine this is what he went through at our wedding, so I'd say it's fair I go through it now."

"At least no one ignorantly asked you to participate in the wedding," said Arwen. Her own guilt about the pain she'd inadvertently inflicted on Legolas would be with her for awhile.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The after-wedding celebration was not all that different from other parties that took place in Rohan and Eryn Lasgalan – it was just grander, full of more noise (if such a thing was possible), more laughter, more joy, and double the libations with Mannish ale and elvish wine being offered side-by-side. Members of all four of the free races mingled together without a care in the world. With that sort of mixed company and good cheer it reminded a lot of people of Aragorn and Arwen's wedding celebration, except without the stiff formalness that naturally came along with anything that took place in Minas Tirith.

In all that revelry it was difficult to find a place to inconspicuously brood but Aragorn lucked out, coming across a shadowy haven while everyone else was flocking to give their congratulations to the new spouses. He knew he had to put on a show of support and happiness soon enough but he needed a moment to collect himself. Maybe several moments – or an hour. Now that he thought about it, a day or two might work out better.

Arwen let him stew there for a little while before making her way over to him. "Aragorn," she urged with resigned patience. "You need to come back to the party now. At the very least the two of us have to publicly congratulate Legolas and Eomer."

"All right," agreed Aragorn dully. "We – we can't have the Rohirrim and elves of Eryn Lasgalan think we're snubbing the new royal couple."

He sounded so forlorn that some pity actually swelled in her heart for him. "You can take another minute or two if you need it," she offered. "The hobbits seem to have their attention now anyway."

She made a move to leave but then paused and slowly sat down beside him. "When we get back to Minas Tirith," she said in a low voice, "I'm…I'm moving out of our bedchamber."

"Just out of our bedchamber?" asked Aragorn in an unreadable tone. "I thought after all you've learned you'd want to get as far away from me as possible. You must think I'm a horrible Man."

"No – just a Man who thought he knew more than he did and ended up being terribly disappointed with his life," said Arwen with a sigh. "Aragorn, there's three good reasons why we should at least keep up the pretense of a happy marriage and nothing for either of us if we publicly end it. But there's also really no reason for us to share a bed now. Don't worry about it seeming strange to everyone else – if anything, more than half the court would think it's odd that we've shared one for so long after our wedding if they knew."

"Why are you telling me this now, Arwen?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully. Perhaps the part of her that was still angry wished to inflict just a little more pain on him; perhaps the compassion in her soul wanted to comfort him by letting him know that at least one unpleasant aspect of his life would be over with soon. It was probably a combination of the two. "But we can talk about it later if you wish – now there's something we must see to."

He nodded and forced himself to his feet, resigned to this most painful of tasks. Walking more or less side-by-side the royal couple of Gondor weaved through the hoards of people, stopping once they were a few feet away from where Legolas, Eomer, and Caladel were chattering animatedly with Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Aragorn knew he should try to get their attention but he couldn't find it in him to so much as clear his throat. Legolas and Caladel looked so happy, so content…

It was Sam who first noticed the two of them standing there. He nudged Merry, who looked over at them two and whispered something to Pippin while the newlyweds peered over their shoulders to see what had caught their guests' attention. With knowing nods the hobbits politely excused themselves but Caladel, suspicious of the stranger his papa almost got into fisticuffs with the day before, stayed right where he was in front of his ada.

"Greetings, Aragorn, Arwen," said Eomer politely when the other couple approached. Legolas remained silent as he put his arms around his son. "Thank you for making the journey to attend our wedding on such short notice."

"We wouldn't have missed it for anything," replied Arwen truthfully enough. "I'm just happy that you've found someone to love who loves you back, Legolas."

"Thank you, Arwen," said Legolas, genuinely moved when he beheld the sincerity in her eyes. He knew what he'd put her through without meaning to was painful to say the least and to know she still wanted him to be happy said a lot about the depth of their friendship. He released Caladel just long enough to embrace her over the boy's head. "I'm so sorry," he whispered in her ear.

"So am I," she whispered back, releasing him and righting herself once more.

Aragorn cleared his suddenly dry throat. At the sound Legolas instinctively put his arms back around Caladel protectively. "I – uh," stammered the Man, not sure as to what to say. How was he supposed to say all that he needed to say in such a public setting?

For the first time since their confrontation the night before Legolas looked Aragorn straight in the eye. In there he saw what he was trying to say and how much he was sincerely trying to say it. While Aragorn certainly wasn't an innocent in this situation Legolas knew he wasn't completely blameless either; and just because he wasn't in love with the Man anymore didn't mean that he couldn't help him just a little bit. "Wish me joy, Aragorn," the elf half requested, half instructed.

Eowyn had asked him for similar sentiments in that very hall years earlier. Back then it had been easy because his feelings for her were uncomplicated – except for the guilt he had felt for not being able to return her affection, but that had been moot at that juncture – and he was nothing but thrilled to see her happy with someone else. This was decidedly more difficult, but the sentiments were no less sincere.

"I have wished you joy since the first time I saw you," he declared in a voice that almost, but didn't, crack as he remembered the teasing archery instructor who'd been so nice to him on his first day in a strange land. It seemed he would be spending the rest of his days keeping a pure smile on Legolas' face – by keeping out of his life. Oh, how could he have let himself squander that happiness? "I'm happy to know you're happy. You're a lucky Man, Eomer," he added, nodding heavily at his love's new husband.

This conversation made no sense to Caladel. Of course he'd grilled Eldarion about the stranger once he learned he was the other little boy's father; and according to his new friend this Aragorn and his ada had known each other, but he'd seen no proof of that. To see his ada acting so familiar around him and, what's more, seeing the mean Man actually acting _nice _to his paper was more than a little odd. "What's going on?" he asked suspiciously, deciding to get the real answer once and for all. He looked up into his ada's face. "Were you two friends or something?"

"We were," confirmed Legolas, almost hiding the sadness in his tone. "Once upon a time."

"Then how come I never heard about him before?" pressed the boy. "I heard stories about everyone else."

"Well, telling stories about everyone else I missed helped me remember the happy times," explained Legolas very, very carefully. With so much else changing in their lives Legolas and Eomer had decided not to tell Caladel the truth about Aragorn but he couldn't in good conscience leave things as they were between the little boy and his blood sire. "With Aragorn it only made me miss him more so I didn't tell any."

"Caladel," spoke up Aragorn, kneeling down to get at eye level with his secret son. The boy eyes him warily but something in his defensive demeanor was softening now that he was assured that there was at least enough good in the Man for him to have been a friend of his ada once. "I'm sorry I behaved so badly around you and your – your papa yesterday. I was very worried about your ada; I didn't know if he was all right or not and I couldn't believe one thing or the other until I saw for myself he was fine. I hope you can forgive me."

Caladel stared at him for several moments with a suddenly very mature light in his eyes. "The first night Ada and I came here," he said at length thoughtfully, "I wasn't a very good boy. I was so scared people were trying to hurt Ada and take me away from him that I kicked and punched at Papa. I guess if he can forgive me for doing that I can forgive you for wanting to do it."

Aragorn's heart tightened and he felt so happy it was painful. This boy truly had Legolas' goodness. "Thank you," he practically whispered, blinking rapidly to hold back his tears.

"I'm glad you two have found a way to get along," said Legolas. He and his husband had discussed this last night and while he was a bit apprehensive about what he was about to offer he ultimately knew it was right. "Eomer and I have been talking about what's been happening between our children in the last day. It seems a great bond has formed between Caladel, Eldarion, and Silmariën."

"They have so much in common too," added Eomer, putting his arm around his new husband. "They are the only ones in the new generation of half-elves so far and no one else will understand quite what its like to be them. It seems a shame not to let that bond grow."

"I've told Eomer and Caladel about how often I visited Rivendell as a child; or would have liked to visit if distance and the dangers of traveling hadn't been so great," chimed in Legolas, steeling himself. "Perhaps…perhaps we can work out something like that now so that _our_" – he gestured to himself and Eomer – "son can spend more time with _your_ children. If that's all right with Caladel, of course."

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds fun!" he cheered.

The ground rules had been set with the stress put on two little words: ours and yours. Eomer was to be Caladel's only sire and that boundary wasn't to be crossed. It pained Aragorn but he could accept it, especially with what Legolas and Eomer were offering. He couldn't be the boy's father but at least he could still play a part in his life. "I would really like that," smiled Aragorn tearfully. "Thank you."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A little while later Caladel was deep in conversation with Alfmund (who was careful to make sure their talk didn't veer to close to his parents' personal lives) and Eomer was Eowyn's willing captive audience when Elladan, seeing that Legolas was actually alone, approached his old friend. "Legolas," he coughed out uncomfortably in a low voice. "May I…may I speak to you? In private, please?"

"Of course," agreed Legolas. He was a bit concerned about his friend's strange tone but most of what he felt was elation. Elladan had yet to warm to him since his reappearance and while Elrohir had assured him that his twin had bigger issues than what was happening between the two of them it still bothered him. At one point he and Elladan had been as close as brothers and if they could get everything out now it might help mend things. Legolas was more than willing to try.

He discreetly led Elladan out of the hall and down the corridor a bit in search of a private room. "There aren't many rooms in this part of Meduseld," he said apologetically. "Maybe if we went to the west end…"

"This seems private enough," noted Elladan, looking around the darkened and empty corridor in a twitchy manner.

"All right," agreed Legolas, for they were reasonably hidden from prying eyes. "Well then, Elladan, what do you wish to speak to me about?"

Elladan fidgeted anxiously. "There's no easy way to tell you this so I'll just start where it started for me," he decided aloud. "Legolas, when Ada took the ship to Valinor it fell to Elrohir and me to sort through what he'd left behind. Oh, he tried to get his affairs in order but he was very…distracted those last years and anyway, it's hard to go through ages of accumulated stuff; so we had to do most of it. Anyway, Elrohir and I split up the tasks to make the process go smoother and it fell to me to go through Ada's private library. While I was looking in every nook and cranny for things I might have overlooked I ended up…stumbling across a 'nook' no one else was obviously supposed to know about."

Legolas didn't say anything but looked at Elladan with encouraging eyes.

Elladan was grateful for his silence, as it was a hard enough story to tell without being interrupted. "He hid his journals there," the dark-haired elf continued. "We always knew he kept them, of course, but we never knew where and Elrohir and I just assumed he took them with him. Well, with me being me – nosy and such – I started going through them. I saw he didn't write about everything, of course – the number of journals needed for _that _would have filled up the entire valley – just things that troubled him more greatly than others. Things like…like how a few weeks after Arwen and Estel's wedding you sought out his help because you'd discovered you were pregnant with – with Estel's child, and what herbs you'd supposedly taken to…take care of the matter."

The blonde elf's heart twisted. He couldn't imagine what his old friend had thought about him when he found that out. "Elladan…"

"Legolas, please let me finish," requested Elladan with a hint of anguished, frustrated force. "He wrote that it was unfortunate what happened but all ended as it should have and then he never mentioned you in there again. I thought he blamed you for what happened and was at peace with his part in putting a stop to it; and for a very long time I faulted you and Estel both for putting him in such a difficult situation by betraying my sister. I didn't realize until yesterday how wrong I was about all of it."

"And how did you figure that out?" asked Legolas faintly.

"In almost all of the entries for the last years he drew these sketches in the margins," Elladan told him shakily. "They were portraits of – of children. I'd thought they were the etchings of an excited grandfather imagining what his grandchildren would look like and in a way I guess it was. More than a few of them _greatly _resembled Caladel. When I saw your son – my nephew – yesterday I realized that he wasn't all right with what happened, that he was haunted by it. He was – he was seeing Caladel everywhere and not realizing he wasn't a ghost or tormenting specter."

He was starting to crumble. "It's all right," Legolas told him awkwardly.

"No it isn't," burst out Elladan. "By the end Ada was so blinded with wanting his children to be happy and weighed down with guilt about what he'd done and what he'd thought he'd done to ensure that we were that he was never the same. He didn't sleep in those last years; he barely ate, and he never smiled. I think he was very sorry about what happened with you, Legolas."

"I am too," said Legolas emotionally. "I loved your father as I would a favorite uncle and it pains me how our relationship ended so coldly. For what it's worth, I can understand why he did it: I would go to great and even dishonorable lengths if it was the only way I thought Caladel could be happy. Yet in his harshness he taught me one last lesson, and that is to remember that everyone is someone's child and treat them as I hope their parents would treat mine." He looked down and wiped his eyes. "I don't know what else to say."

"I don't want to end up like Ada," confessed Elladan brokenly, dissolving into tears. "I've been becoming him: meddling because I assume I'm right, driving away the people I love for not doing what I think they should have done all the time, being so blinded by the internal struggle between self-righteousness and guilt that I can't sleep, and all the rest of it. He was alone in the end, not able to trust anyone. I don't want to be alone anymore…"

"You don't have to be," Legolas assured him compassionately, engulfing him in a friendly, comforting hug. Elladan clung to him as a lifeline and didn't let go for a very long time.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

While Legolas and Elladan were in the corridor Aragorn had, after engaging in some mandatory mingling, found his way back to his shadowy and secluded corner. Arwen would not bother him again as long as he came when the official dinner began and he was confident that he'd visited enough with all the 'important' people so that they wouldn't seek him out. He'd wanted to spend his moments of privacy brooding on all he'd lost and gained that day but fate deemed he was not to be left alone. The few minutes of solitude were interrupted by Thranduil – of all people – sitting down next to him. "Hello, Estel," the elven king said in a casual and bafflingly familiar voice.

"King Thranduil," greeted Aragorn warily, not sure of what to make of his behavior. Thranduil was usually (at least with other elvish and Mannish rulers) a paragon of courtly politeness; he hadn't called him anything but 'King Elessar' since the coronation. "How can I help you?"

"Ah, help," said Thranduil, a hard edge slowly appearing in his tone. "I do need some help. I seem to find myself at an impasse, Estel. You see, decades ago I allowed a young Man to enter my realm only to watch him attach himself to my son so immediately and intimately that I barely had time to react to it. Yet I was fine with that as long as things didn't get carried away because I knew he was leaving at the end of the summer and chances were they weren't going to see each other again."

"Years passed," he continued as Aragorn shifted uncomfortably, "and now the young Man is king of the most powerful realm in Middle-earth. That's fine too, because I have no reason not to respect him and the friendship he's built with my son. He's even devastated when I tell him my son is missing. Then, Estel, I discover that this Man not only took his new, secret relationship with my son so far he managed to impregnate him, leave him, and essentially drive him away. What would you do if you were in my position, Estel?"

Aragorn felt unnervingly chill as he stared at his hands. "I don't know," he said simply.

"On the one hand," said Thranduil deliberately, "my son has requested that I make no retributions on his behalf. There is also the practical part of me that understands I don't have the number of forces needed to stand against the most powerful realm on this side of the sea. On the other hand, this is about my child and grandchildand the years they spent alone and afraid in Fangorn Forest, and the years I spent in misery not knowing where he was and if he was all right. You understand my dilemma, Estel."

"I do, and I think this Man deserves nothing less than the worst punishment," decided Aragorn slowly. "He should be forced to face the fact that his life and dreams are nothing but lies and then still have to live with them. He should have to stand there, watch, and say nothing as his firstborn son calls another Man 'Papa'. Most of all, he should have to watch your son marry someone else and then have to bid the new spouses all the best, all while knowing he will be in love with your son until the day he dies, that he could never be completely happy unless your son is at his side, and that he only has himself to blame for losing both your son and his. Is that enough to avenge for the years of loneliness and misery?"

Thranduil didn't answer at first, for his attention was on Caladel as the boy rushed into his father's arms when the elf re-entered the hall with Elladan. He could balance his temper with Legolas' need for prudence – for the time being. "Yes, I suppose all of that and a knee in the groin will have to do," he said ponderously as he stood up. "But that knee will have to come later. I can't let you be prepared for it – after all, Legolas wasn't prepared for the pain he got from you and neither was I. So until then I'll leave you; right now I have more important people to be with."

And then he left without a backward glance, putting Aragorn in his place once and for all. So he had a knee in the groin to look forward too – at least that sort of pain would fade eventually. "I deserve a knee in the groin," the Man mumbled.

"I agree wholeheartedly, especially if it's coming from the Elvenking," declared another, gruff voice. The Man looked up in surprise to see Gimli had come up to him. "I don't like him, that Elvenking – he's very fussy, overbearing, and rude; but he'd do anything to make sure his son and grandson are all right. I can respect him for that. If you ever repeat that to anyone I'll chop you up into little bits."

"My lips are sealed," said Aragorn cautiously, wondering what had compelled the dwarf to come see him. It was nice to be talking to him again at any rate and he didn't dare drive him off with a smart remark about how his description of Thranduil sounded like he was talking about himself.

"Good." Gimli plopped down next to him and took his time surveying the crowd. "You know, I expected you to be a pain in the ass today, maybe try to break up the wedding, but you didn't. It took you long enough but you finally did what was best for Legolas – and for Caladel."

"I get to spend some time with Caladel," Aragorn told him. "Legolas, Eomer, and I are going to talk about when he can visit Minas Tirith."

"I know," nodded the dwarf. "Legolas told me. Very generous of him and Eomer, if you ask me. I might go to Minas Tirith while he's visiting to see for myself that everything's fine."

Aragorn's eyes darted over to his current companion. "Gimli," he started.

"We're not all right, Aragorn," stressed Gimli firmly. "We are a long way from being all right. But…but if you keep up this behavior perhaps in time we will be."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"Everyone, everyone, may I have your attention please?"

The crowd of revelers, now seated at their respective tables eating dinner, looked up at the Man giving out the call. "Everyone," announced Gamling when they'd quieted down, "thank you for coming to the wedding of King Eomer and Prince Legolas of Rohan!"

Spontaneous applause burst out all over the hall. "Yes, yes, we all wish the all the happiness in the world," said Gamling, raising his hand to signal that they should get quiet again. "Now you may notice that every table here tonight is decorated generously with mistletoe. There is a reason for that: you see, here in Rohan our Yule celebration has a tradition involving that plant. One person gives it to another and tells them where to kiss someone; then after that person chooses and kisses someone he gives the mistletoe the person he's just kissed, and so on. I know Yule is many months away but this tradition is important today, for last Yule thanks to this tradition and a drunken fool I won't name" –

"Léod," supplied Legolas and Eomer at the same time, the former with a voice full of mischief and the latter in exasperation.

"Anyway," continued Gamling as he sent the royal couple a wry look, "thanks to both of those King Eomer and Prince Legolas got started on their road back to each other that night. To honor that, I give this mistletoe to all of you. However, instead of telling you where to kiss I'll bend the tradition somewhat and tell you who: kiss the one you love. And if you're not with the one you love," he added, winking, "love the one you're with."

All over the hall there were flurries of giggles, movements, and awkward moments. Aragorn and Arwen smiled sadly at each other as they kissed in a friendly enough, platonic, and bittersweet manner – much like their relationship would be from now on. Thranduil sought no person out but kissed the ring that hung on a mithril chain around his neck (Gimli saw this and, finding it very strange, vowed to ask Caladel about it during their upcoming time alone together). Due to their status as War heroes and the adorable nature of their stature and faces the hobbits had no shortage of Rohirric women to kiss, something that Merry and Pippin thoroughly enjoyed but Sam had to decline, claiming loyalty to his wife Rosie. Elladan and Elrohir (who was overjoyed to see his twin acting mostly normal again) merely laughed at everyone else while Faramir and Eowyn nuzzled lovingly. Silmariën happily kissed Eldarion and Caladel before either boy could protest or run away.

And at the head table Legolas and Eomer's mouths met in a sensual, lingering kiss that was full of love. "Maybe if we have a daughter one day we should name her Mistletoe," joked Eomer tenderly.

"What, and then kiss each other every time we passed her back and forth?" asked Legolas good-humoredly. "That would have a profoundly negative affect on any child's personality! There are plenty of good Rohirric and elvish names – I'm sure we'll never want for something to call any of our children. Besides, I don't need any more excuses to kiss you – you're my husband now and that's all the reason I could ever ask for."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Eomer, playfully kissing the end of his nose. "Dear Valar, I can't wait for our honeymoon."

That was only mostly true. He was certainly looking forward to the first half of it, which would consist of him and Legolas riding across the plains of Rohan, enjoying their days of travel and nights of…camping out alone together. It was during this time that Gimli would have Caladel with him at him at the Glittering Caves, and Eomer definitely didn't begrudge them their special time. Once the first half of the honeymoon was over the dwarf would ride with Caladel to a rendezvous point to meet his parents; and it thrilled the Man that the three of them would have the chance to grow some more as a family outside of court life. The location of this growth, however – Fangorn Forest – left something to be desired. Still, it was important to his husband and son that they visit the trees and Ents – especially Treebeard and Quickbeam, both of whom had wanted to see Legolas and Caladel happy and regretted not being able to come to the wedding – and Eomer was resolved to go there with an open mind.

"Who says we have to wait?" asked Legolas with a suggestive purr. "Dinner's almost over, Ada's claimed Caladel for the night, and our guests can take care of themselves. Why don't we bid our son goodnight and retire to your – our – bedchamber?"

"I don't think I've heard a more fantastic idea," grinned Eomer. "Just wait until you see how I had it all set up! You told me once that you…_dreamed_ about our first time together; I want to make those dreams come true, Legolas."

"You have," Legolas assured him, giving him another kiss before they rose to their feet to make their exit. "You already have."

The end.

_A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this story – I didn't expect such a passionate response from so many people and I'm grateful for it!_

_A/N: Yes, I know Caladel and Elrohir didn't find out that Aragorn was Caladel's blood sire. Neither of them find out until later (yes, I thought up a timeline for when this happens)._

_A/N: I feel the need to explain the origins of this story, as it pertains to my decision about whether or not to write an alternative ending. This came from many different places: (1) an idea for a storyline I have for an original novel that's been in my head for a long time; (2) feeling sorry for the nice guy in a lot of movies who treats the heroine with nothing but love and respect and then gets dumped so she can get back together with the guy who treated her like dirt before but is really sorry for it now; (3) a note I found on some website I can't remember now about how most slash writers don't_ _treat the women in their stories very well and a plea to work on this; and (4) the very odd (for me) idea of writing a Legolas/Aragorn story where the two don't end up together in the end._

_I think I mentioned before that I didn't want to write this story at first, and the reason for that is because of number 4 above. I love stories with happy endings. When I first thought this story through it was very much a Legolas/Aragorn story with a little Legolas/Eomer on the side and still Legolas chose Eomer in the end. Seriously, one day at work the last few chapters just flooded into my mind and I almost started crying – NOT something I imagined I'd like writing. That did change over time; I didn't want it to seem like I just stuck Legolas with Eomer on a whim so I started easing them together and ended falling in love with Eomer in the process right along with Legolas._

_As for the alternative ending, while I love my reviewers and like making them happy whenever I can I can't write it. The best way I can explain it is that I haven't been writing this story so much as it's been writing itself and I'm just the person taking down all the words. If I tried to write another ending it would turn out very crappy. This is how the story ends, at least for me. If any of you want to take a shot at writing an alternative ending I won't object as long as you acknowledge what story it's for, that I'm the author of the original story but didn't have anything to do with what you've written, and email me if you post it._

_A/N: The promised appendices are coming soon, but most likely won't be ready for the regular update day of Thursday. It's midterm time and I really need to get back on track._

_Once again, thank you and I'm sorry I couldn't write an alternative ending._


End file.
